Past Secrets and Present Times
by Hotshot
Summary: It's a finished romance between Specs and my original charachter Hotshot. I've since improved her but in this she's a complete MarySue. I'd take it down but i don't have the heart to, it's my first fic after all.
1. Da Bulls and Manhattan

Past Secrets and Present Times Chapter 2 

By Megan

            The next morning Kloppman came into the room at his usual time, 5:30 and began yelling at the boys to wake up.  He walked to Boots bed and yelled loudly, the boy's response was barely waking up. 

 Henry was next.  "I didn't do it." He claimed sitting up after Kloppman had yelled his name five times.

"Whadda ya mean ya didn't do it, ya gotta get up an' sell the papes." He said slapping him across the cheek.

Then he went over to Race, Crutchy, and Kid Blinks' corner of the room.  He poked at Jack until the leader pushed himself out of bed.  Finally he went over to where the girl was sleeping.  She was wide-awake, ready to go, and was reading the previous days paper.  Like her 'babysitter' she wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

"You's up early," he said.

"Spot got us out a bed at five every mornin' to get the papes 'fore everyone else." She said explaining why she was up early.

Kloppman looked at the bunk on top of hers.  Specs was still asleep.  "Specs," he shouted, "Specs wake up." With that encouragement and a few pokes the more experienced newsie got up complaining, "I'se up, I'se up, lemme alone."  

            While the boys got ready to go Hotshot just sat on her bed reading the paper and listening to the faint singing coming out of the washroom.  Jack was the first one to come out.  He sat on the bed across from hers.  "How many papes you think you can handle your firs' day?" he asked.

            She glanced up at him, "At least a hundred."

            "Get fifty taday, and help Specs sell some a his.  Listen the only ones who know you's from Brooklyn is me, Kid, and David.  Don' go spreadin' it around 'cause a couple scabs 'ere don' like Brooklyn much."

            "Ya didn't tell Specs?"

            "No, he ahh…" Jack paused, "Lets jus say his experiences in Brooklyn haven't been da best." 

            "Alright." she said as the other boys came out of the washroom to join them.

            Jack turned to the group and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "Alright, you's all know that its Hotshot's first day."

            A couple of laughs and evil grins were his response.

            "An' I also know that all a you's are gonna help her out if ya see 'er.  You's all had first days sellin' 'ere too and you's should remember what it was like.  In otha words if I hear 'bout any tricks that you's played on her I'll soak ya."

            A few whispers of protest could be heard around the room.  

Hotshot left a blank, challenging stare on her face.  Jack knew pranks would be played, but wondered if she'd report them at the end of the day, or if Specs would report them for that matter.  He'd have to find Kid later and tell him to help her the next day.  There was no way Specs wanted her to stay with him longer than she had to.  

"Let's go then," he yelled, leading them out the doors and to the distribution office.  "Mornin' Weasel!"

The old man scowled at him.  It was a miracle that he'd gotten his job back after the strike, yet he still seemed to hate it.  "How many times do I have to tell you, the name's Wiesel, Mr. Wiesel to you."

 As he spoke Jack mouthed the words and used wild hand gestures.   All he received was another scowl when he was caught.   He picked up the pape sitting on the counter and quickly looked through it, searching for headlines that could make a good story.  He threw down a coin and declared, "A 'undred papes."

Wiesel shoved the papers at him and loudly said, "Next."

As Hotshot walked up Jack caught her eye and mouthed, "Only fifty."  She frowned but put half the money she'd planned on using in her pocket.  She put the other half on the counter.  "Fifty papes."

Wiesel looked at her, "What have we here, a newbie?  What's your name boy?"

She smiled and spoke loudly, "Hotshot, and don't bother I've already heard a lot about you Weasel, but Jack I have to disagree."

Jack looked at her, "'Bout what?"

"He looks more like a sewer rat ta me," She turned back to the raging old man, "Me papes, please."

He shoved them under the barred area and motioned for her to leave.  She took a seat next to Jack and waited for the others to get their papers.  "Good one," Mush whispered as he passed her. 

When Specs got his paper he sat down on the other side of Jack, "Your orders." he said with no emotion in his voice.

"Keep an eye on her, give 'er some a you's papes if she sells all a hers, an' if you try to lose her I'll soak you."

"Ya know," he said, "I'se heard you threaten to soak a lot a people, but I ain't seen ya do it much."

"You's care to be one a the ones dat don't back off, an' make me." He glanced sideways at Specs, "Jus' don't ditch her alright."

"Alright, let's go then." Specs motioned for her to follow him.  Jack went in the exact opposite direction with David and Les.  "Anything that can be improved?" Specs looked at her as he sat on one of the benches in the square, and opened a paper.

"Let's see," Hotshot thought back to the headlines she'd read, "There's 'Three Dead Cats Found on Railroad Tracks' and 'Fire Knocks out Power to Mill.'" She looked at him as he raised an eyebrow.

"I guess dat could work. I'll take the one 'bout the corpses."  He got up and began to walk down the street shouting his headline, " Extra, Extra.  Three corpses found on railroad tracks.  Murder victims."

At the same time Hotshot was shouting, "Mill fire.  Hundreds lose power.  Mass panic."  Even though Specs walked quickly she was still able to match his pace.  

Within two hours the two only had about a dozen papers left.  They started back toward Tibby's to meet up with everyone else.

"So which a Jack's friends sent you up 'ere?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well they gots ta be important for him to threaten to soak me."

"I'll tell you later."

"Let's go this way.  It's a shortcut." Specs nodded down an alley.  Hotshot just shrugged and followed him.  When they were close to halfway through a figure stepped out from the corner of one of the buildings.  Oscar Delancy grinned from under his cap.

"Turn around, "Specs whispered urgently.  Hotshot didn't know the boy in the alley but from the way Specs spoke he was obviously someone to be avoided.  She turned with him in time to see Maurice emerge from the end of the alley that they had been coming from.  The brothers backed them into a corner.

"Hey four-eyes," Oscar droned, "What do ya got here, a newbie."  He reached for Hotshot's collar to pull her foreward. 

Years of training helped her keep her balance enough to pull back out of his reach.  When he brought his hand back to swing at her she ducked, and all he hit was her hat.  Hitting her hat also let the two 'stupid apes' in on her secret.

Maurice gasped, "You's a goil."

Oscar was also surprised but didn't show it.  Instead he turned to Specs. "Why don' you introduce us ta you's lil' goil friend scum."

Specs scowled and again let no emotion show through his voice.  "Guys this is Hotshot, Hotshot dis is Maurice and Oscar Delancy."  He pointed to indicate who was who.

"Now why's a pretty thing like you hanging with a bum like this?" Maurice asked, "And why on earth are you selling papers?"

"There ain't no law 'gainst goils bein' newsies," she snapped at him, "An' if I wasn't wit' him who'd I be wit', an idiot like one a you."

   Oscar reached out to grab her again, and this time was prepared when she tried to move out of his way.  He grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her foreward, dragging her a few steps away  

"Let her alone," Specs snapped stepping foreward to pull her back.  He was stopped however by Maurice's fist coming in contact with his stomach and then his face.  He fell back against the wall groaning.  

Oscar laughed at his brother's actions and turned to the smaller girl.  "C'mon Hun, gimme a kiss," he said.

In reaction Hotshot spit in his face and brought her heel down hard on his toes.  He stifled a cry of pain and released her to wipe his face.

Seizing the opportunity she jumped back to the wall.  As the two brothers got ready to advance she pulled her slingshot out of her back pocket, set it, and released.

Maurice and Oscar had thought that she was joking when she pulled it out.  Only Brooklyn newsies carried slingshots and there was no way this girl was from Brooklyn.  Once her first shot hit Oscar hard in the stomach and the second nailed Maurice in the face they quickly changed their minds.  "I'se got plenty a ammo in my pocket, and I can fight betta 'den most a me friends back home so don' push it."  Oscar and Maurice turned and fled the alley threatening, "We'll get you sooner or later."

            As Hotshot turned to see if Specs was ok she found him staring at her wide-eyed.  "You's from Brooklyn."  It was hard to tell if he looked scared or amazed.

            Hotshot sighed, "Yeah, I am."  She reached out a hand to help him up, "C'mon we gots ta meet the guys at Tibby's." 

            Without accepting her help he pushed himself up from the ground.  "I can't believe him."

            "Can't believe Jack put you wit' someone from Brooklyn?" she asked.  "He told me you don't like us.  The least you can do is tell me why."

            "Tonight, back at the lodging house." He said, ending the discussion.

            Jack turned in his chair to greet them when they got to Tibby's.  When he saw Specs his jaw dropped, "What happened ta you?" he asked getting up.  He yelled for Race to get a piece of ice to put on Specs' swelling eye.

            "We had a little run in wit' the Delancy bruthas." Specs explained as Jack pulled him and Hotshot over in the corner.  "They know that Hotshot's a goil; her hat fell off.  Anyway Oscar grabbed her and Maurice hit me a few times."

            Jack glanced over at Hotshot and  accepted the ice wrapped in a cloth from Racetrack, "Then how come Hotshot here ain't hurt none?"

            "Well she pulled out her slingshot and taught 'em a lesson."  He scowled at Jack for a second, "An' I figured out she's from Brooklyn."

            Jack matched his scowl and answered seriously, "The only reason she's stayin' here is cuz da bulls are down in Brooklyn lookin' ta put her back wit' her uncle.  An' I can tell you right now she's from Spot's group, not the rebels you met and Spot's newsies ain't like that.  You gonna live?"

            Specs' scowl had vanished, "I'll be fine."

            "Good then lets get you two sumthin' ta eat."

            After lunch the two sold the rest of their papers quickly and went back to the boarding house.  Specs' black eye had helped them sell the last few papers.  Hotshot sat down on her bunk and figured he'd tell her when he was ready.

            Sure enough he sat down a few minutes later, "Don' you ever tell anybody."

            She nodded and he continued.

**Flashback**

            Two young newsies were walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to visit some friends they had and ask for a favor. They both seemed to be around twelve-years-old.  

            The shorter of the two was Jack Kelly.  He was reasonably tall, thin, had light brown hair and eyes.  It had been his idea to visit his friend Spot Conlan, the newsie who was sure to take over when the current leader of the Brooklyn newsies retired.  Jack was strong and fearless.  Used to fights and having spent time in the refuge he was ready for anything.

            The boy walking next to him was slightly taller.  Like Jack he was thin, with brown hair and eyes.  His hair was somewhat darker, covered by a hat, and wavy at the ends.  The major difference was the glasses that rested on his nose.  They were the origin of his nickname, Specs.  He had only been a newsie for a few months, but already aware of the different territories.  Jack had taken an instant liking to the older boy when he had come to the lodging house looking for a job.  Specs' parents had died and instead of going to an orphanage he had run to the lodging house, hoping to become a newsie.  At least that was the story he told.  Jack had pulled him into the slowly growing group of Manhattan newsies that would one day lead the strike against Pulitzer.  

            When they got to Brooklyn Jack pulled his friend through the crowded streets searching for a newsie that he knew.  Within ten minutes he spotted his friends Wiser and Scruff on a street corner.  "Either a you's seen Spot?" he asked stopping in front of them.

            They smiled at him, both recognizing the Manhattan leader who was in the same position as Spot.  "He went back ta the pier," Scruff said.

            At the same time Wiser spoke, "He's buyin' some marbles down at the store."

            Jack looked at them confused for a minute.  Either of them could be right so he had an idea.  "Wiser take Specs 'ere and go see if Spot's at the store.  Me an' Scruff'll check the pier.  If he's not there come back, an' if he is come back wit' 'im."

The other boys nodded in understanding and took off in different directions.  Specs followed closely behind the older boy trying to keep from getting lost.  Wiser stopped at a small store and peeked in the window.  "Guess Spot's been here already," he said, "Lets go back ta the dock."  With that he turned and trotted off back toward the pier.

Specs, not used to the fast pace, tried desperately to keep up but got lost in the crowd.  He moved to the sidewalk hoping to see a familiar face but was not as lucky as he hoped.  He began to feel trapped and lost and leaned against a wall for support.  His spirits were lifted a little when a group of older newsies circled around him.  "Can you's tell me where ta find Spot Conlan?" he asked.

"Why?" their leader asked, "You lookin' to join?"

"No."

"Where you from?"

"Manhattan."

The older boy growled, "What do you's think you's doin' on our turf?" 

Before Specs could answer a heavy blow was delivered to his stomach.  Over and over they hit him.  Even after the pain had caused him to pass out they continued to beat him.  When they finally left it wasn't until two hours later that Jack, Spot, and some of Spot's friends found him.  One of the older Brooklyn newsies had to carry him back to Manhattan, and he'd been stuck at the boarding house for more than three weeks before Kloppman allowed him to sell again.

 When he'd finally gotten over his fear and gone back to Brooklyn a similar incident happened.  He'd also seen other friends beat up by Brooklyn newsies.  Never one of Spot's newsies, but always one of the rebels.  Finally he had gotten scared enough to refuse to go to Brooklyn for any reason.  Over the past five years at least he'd learned the streets of New York and knew them like the back of his hand.  He knew where everything was in Brooklyn too, but always refused to go.

**End Flashback**

            "Not all of us are like that Specs," Hotshot said from her bunk.

            "I know, I jus' don' wanna go back there an' run into the ones who are again."

            "That's the same reason some Brooklyn newsies won't come up here ya know," she said, "There's newsies in Brooklyn that don't like to come up here 'cause they heard they'd get beat up.  Not many, but a few.  Were you scared a me out there?"

            "No, you's a goil.  Plus I ain't scared of 'em when I'se on our turf.  Can you really beat most of the Brooklyn newsies in a fight."

            "Bein' a goil don' got nothin' ta do wit' it.  I coulda fought if I had to," she said, "An' please, have you's seen the size a some a da  Brooklyn newsies.  The few fights I's been in wit' dem I fought hard as I could and still lost."

            "So why would Spot let you stay?" The look on his face was amused.

            "I could sell papes well an' could keep meself out a trouble.  I can fight one newsie jus' not a whole bunch.  I fought Spot before."

            Specs looked at the girl in front of him, "You fought Spot Conlan. 

            "Yes I'se did," she said matter of factly, "He said I couldn't do somethin' 'cause I was a goil an' he wouldn't take it back so I punched 'im.  He came up 'ere after it to visit Jack, you'se woulda been about 13 of 14."

            Specs laughed out loud at that, "You's the one who gave Spot that black eye.  He tol' us it was some bull on the bridge."

            "Well it was me an' he ain't excluded me from nuthin' 'cause I was a goil since."

            A few minutes later the other newsies started arriving back at the lodging house.  Race came in with Mush and Kid Blink raving about losing some hot tip and how stupid the horse was.  From the looks the other two were giving him this seemed to be a daily occurrence.  Jack strolled in with David and Les after everyone else had arrived.  

"So any tricks? He asked her

"None," she lied.  Snipeshooter, Henry and Crutchy had hidden her glasses and other personal items all over the washroom.  Dutchy and Snitch had stolen ten of her papes at the distribution station while she was sitting with Jack.  Someone had left a bucket of water to soak her when she came into the lodging house.  Unfortunately they hadn't positioned it right so she didn't get wet.

She got stares from everyone in the room when she answered.  The guys were amazed that this _girl hadn't told Jack about their pranks.  Jack was surprised too, but also proud.  She knew one of the most important newsie rules; never rat on another newsie.  This of course didn't count for scabbers.  "You sure?" he asked._

"Yes."

"Specs?"

"No one did anythin'," If she wasn't going to tell neither was he.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few," With that Jack strolled out of the room.

The other newsies surrounded her.  "Why didn't ya tell?" Crutchy asked.

"Do you know nothin' 'bout the rules a the newsies; ya don' tell on any otha newsies 'cept if they's a scab." She looked at them, "Besides I likes it here."

"Hey Specs,"  They all jumped at the sound of Jack's voice.  "I'se need you's help writin' a letter to Spot, c'mon." Specs got up and followed Jack out of the room.

That night Jack woke Hotshot and brought her out on the fire escape.  "Now we's out here an' I ain't gonna soak no one did you's get played tricks on?"

"Yeah, plenty."

"An' you's didn't tell me 'cause a the rule?"

"Yes."

Jack smiled, "So how was you's first day?"

"Good," she smiled, "It was fun seein' those Delancy's run."

"Did you really have more ammo?"

"Back in the room, I'se jus' glad they bought my lies."

Jack looked her in the face, "Specs said you's could keep sellin' wit' him."

"Great," she replied.

"Did you date Spot?"

"Sort of, we hung out together a lot but it was neva official."

"What 'bout Specs?  Think you'll date 'im."

"I barely know the guy.  Sure he ain't bad in the looks department but I knew Spot at least five years 'fore I started 'dating him'."

Jack shrugged and said one last comment, "Well things are different in Manhattan."  With that he left her confused and alone outside.

She sat for a few minutes thinking about what he'd said.  "If anyone it'll be Kid Blink I date," she said to herself before going inside.

Hey everybody, this is my first newsie fic.  I hope you like it.  If you do keep reading and' if ya don't then don't, or keep reading anyway.  I can promise a few twists and turns in this story and I'll probably think of a few others.  Most of 'em won't have a girl newsie in them and they'll just be about the guys in the movie. Well, read, review, e-mail.  I'll talk to you later.  Bye I'll add more soon I promise.


	2. Sellin' Papes

Disclaimer: Alright you know the drill.  I don't own any of the newsies that were listed on the soundtrack to the movie, or any other characters in the story itself.  I do own any other characters that pop up in the story and any newsies that you haven't heard of before.  I just saw the movie for the first time a couple weeks ago.  Too bad all those guys are so much older now; most of 'em are pretty cute.  That guy Specs is really cute, but he has like no lines in the movie, not fair.  If you like what you read review, this is my first newsie fic so be kind, or e-mail me.  I'll update as much as possible.  Hope you like it. 

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 1

By Megan

            The newsies of Manhattan, the Bronx, Brooklyn, and everywhere else in   
New York were celebrating their win over Pulitzer and the rights they gained for the sweatshop kids all over New York.  Now, they still weren't treated very fairly, but they still had rights.  Everything had gone back to what it had been like before, Spot and the other Brooklyn newsies had finally returned to Brooklyn, and the Manhattan newsies were ready for something exciting to happen.  And thanks to Brooklyn they were going to get their wishes very soon.

            "Heya Hotshot," Spot Conlon called out, strolling into the small building on the pier that Brooklyn newsies called home.

            "Whadda ya want," the younger newsie asked from one of the small cots.

            "We's gots a problem," Spot said, "Dere's a couple a guys lookin' 'round Brooklyn for ya.  Now I'se knows you can get away from one a dem while you's out sellin' papes but if sumone slips and tells 'em where ya live den you'll get sent back wit' dat uncle a yours.  And dere's a bunch of 'em too, maybe a dozen or so." 

            "What do ya want me ta do 'bout it," 

            "I'se gonna send you up to Manhattan to be a newsie dere for a while.  I gots a friend who can maybe help ya.  But I gots ta warn ya some of da guys dere might be a lil'

bugged by a goil sellin' papes."

            "If they don't like a girl sellin' dere papes I'll teach 'em to live wit it." She said.

            "An' how do ya plan on doin' dat?" he questioned.

            "I'se from Brooklyn, I'll soak 'em."  She was already done packing her things in a small bag.

            The leader of the Brooklyn newsies, sometime known as Brooklyn himself, laughed at the comment made by the only female newsie in New York, Brooklyn at least.  Spot had been the first one to meet her when she'd run away from home four years ago.  He'd taught her everything he knew and was the only one who knew her secret. 

            As their laughter died down the doors opened again causing the sun to shine off of Spot's dirty blonde hair and gold cane.  His, male, second in command, Lockpick (after his famous talent), came running in. "Spot," he called, "They's her lookin for Hotshot.  She's gots ta leave now."

            Spot cursed under his breath as he snuck her off the pier.  "You know how to get to Manhattan?"

"Yeah, course."

"Find Jack Kelley, or David Jacobs, most a the newsies there will know 'em."

"Don't they got nicknames?"

"Jack is Cowboy and David is Davy, sometimes.  They was in the newspaper I showed you."

"I'll find 'em." She spit on her hand and held it out. 

Spot copied her motion and shook her hand just in time to hear a man behind him.  He turned to find a large man coming down the pier at him and pulled out his slingshot, "Scram kid.  I'll come up when it's safe.  If ya need me send Jack down here."

            Without a word she took off in the direction of the bridge while Spot told the man to get away from the pier when he figured out that the man only thought he'd seen a girl.  Him and the other men searching left with a little convincing from the Brooklyn newsies slingshots.

            It was dark by the time Hotshot got to Manhattan, and she was very tired.  When she remembered that Spot hadn't told her where to find the Manhattan newsies she realized she wouldn't find them until the next morning.  She found a small alley between two buildings and sat near a stack of crates.  Her stomach growled, demanding food, but being used to not eating for days she ignored it.  Since she was wearing the same clothes most newsies in New York wore she knew everyone would mistake her for a boy, until they saw her hair.  Thanks to that no one would wake her up for sleeping in the streets.  Completely relaxed she stretched out and fell asleep.

*          *            *

            "So what's you's doin' taday Blink," Race asked, as he and the other newsies were getting ready to leave for a day of work.  

Kid Blink had been told to take an extra day off by Jack, because he had been very sick.  Blink was convinced he was fine but an extra day off sounded better than selling papes.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Jus' hang 'round here I guess."

"In dat case ya wanna lend me two bits for da track."

Kid Blink threw the money in his friends' direction.

Racetrack was out the door in minutes.  David replaced him coming into the room where they usually slept.  "How ya feelin' Blink?" he asked.

"Alright, I bet I could go sell papes taday but Jack said ta stay here again."

"An' you betta do what I said too.  Unless there's some kinda emergency, if I find out you took one step outta this place I'll soak ya meself." Jack warned as he came out of the washroom.  

Mush and Crutchy walked by him as Kid Blink gave a mock salute, "yessir."

"Maybe I should soak ya jus' for da fun a it."  By this time only a few of the newsies were still in the room.  "Me an' Davy'll come back at noon.  I'll get ya sumthin' from Tibby's." With that said Jack and David walked out of the room.

Blink sighed, being the only one there was boring.  A few seconds later Specs walked out of the washroom and began looking around his bed. 

"Hey, Kid ya seen me hat?" he asked.

"Sure have," he pulled it off the post of his bed, "But I ain't gonna give it to ya." To emphasize his point Kid Blink pulled the hat out of Specs' reach.

"Do you always hafta be such an antagonist?" Specs asked, slightly annoyed.

"Antaga… what?"  Blink asked confused.

"Antagonist," Specs said, out of all the newsies in the boarding house he'd had the most education and easily pronounced words that the other couldn't "Someone who starts problems."

"Yep, dat's me." Blink made the mistake of lowering the hat within Specs' reach.  Specs seized the opportunity and stole his hat back.  He shook his head and ran out of the room.

*            *            *

Hotshot had woken up to find the streets full of newsies.  None of whom she recognized from the paper.  Spot had warned her that not all Manhattan newsies were kind.  She decided to find the boarding house where the 'Cowboy' lived.  Before stepping out of the alley she pulled her hat onto her head trapping most of her shoulder length brown hair inside it.  She wandered the street until she saw a building with an old, weather beaten sign out front that read 'News Boys Lodging House.' Knowing this must be the place to find them she opened the front door and walked inside.

*            *            *

The bunkroom quickly became boring so Kid Blink took a deck of cards from Racetrack's bunk and walked downstairs.  Maybe Kloppman, the man who ran the boarding house, would be up for a game.  When he slid down the banister the older man was walking into his office.

"Hey, Kloppman, how 'bout a game a poker."

The older man looked up at him, "Can't right now Kid. I gotta fix my record books and put a new one together."  He smiled at the younger boy, "Little bored?"

Kid Blink nodded as he jumped up on the counter and spread out the cards, "Maybe later?"

"Sure, why not." With that Kloppman closed the door to his office and Kid Blink was alone in the lobby.  He had been practicing poker for almost half an hour when a younger looking boy walked into the room.  He wasn't anyone that Kid Blink remembered so Kid figured that he was a newbie.

Blink jumped down from the counter as the boy approached, "Hey kid, can I help you?"

"Is Cowboy and David here?" 

"Naw, they're out sellin but they're comin' back around lunch so you can hang out with me until then.  I'se Kid Blink by the way.  What's ya name?"

The younger newsie glanced at him but didn't answer.  

"You can tell me later," he said getting no response, "You been a newsie before?"

"Since I was 14."  Blink motioned him to play a game of poker with him, and got a nod in response.  As they started the game Blink continued his interrogation, "So where was you a newsie before?"

"Brooklyn, but don't tell no one ok."

"Alright," Blink agreed.  He wasn't sure if the kid was telling the truth.  He doubted that a Brooklyn newsie would decide too go somewhere else and didn't recognize him from Spot's group.  The only thing that made it believable was the look on the kids' face.  His facial expression challenged anyone to prove him wrong.  

The kid beat him during the first three games of poker but then he went on a winning streak.  He didn't notice Jack and David come in until one of them spoke.

"Hey Kid Blink, whose da new kid?" Jack asked.

"Heya guys," Blink said as he and the other kid threw their cards into the pile, "Dis is a newbie.  He ain't told me his name yet.  Says he's from Brooklyn an' he asked 'specially for yous two when he came in."

Jack spit in his hand and held it out, "I'se Jack, dis is Davy and you's already met Blink here." 

The kid spit in his hand and shook hands with Jack.

"You the kid Spot was gonna send here?" Jack asked.

"Yeah."

"C'mon Davy," Jack said pointing upstairs, "Blink give us a bit." 

Kid Blink accepted a sandwich from Tibby's from David and nodded, confused.  Jack, Davy, and the new kid walked upstairs.  Jack ushered them into the bunkroom and shut the door.  

"David," he explained, "Dis kids from Spot's gang over in Brooklyn.  He ran away from 'is uncle a few years ago and the bulls a' lookin' for him in Brooklyn now.  Anyways Spot sent 'im up 'ere ta stay wit' us 'till the whole thing blows over."  He turned to the newbie, "What did he mean when he said da guys might not want you's ta stay 'ere.

Hotshot pulled off her hat to reveal that she was a girl.  "You's a goil," Jack muttered surprised, "Spot said you was his second in command."

"I am. Da names Brooke an' would ya mind not tellin' everyone I'se from Brooklyn."

"Alright, why aren't you staying with the newsgirls across town?" David asked.

"They have a bad rep, and none dem knows how to fight.  I'se jus' used to livin' wit' the guys in Brooklyn I guess.  So can I stay here?"

"I gots no objections to you staying here.  We won't tell 'em where you's from an' if we tell Blink he'll keep his mouth shut too.  We'll introduce ya to everyone tonight, but I gots ta warn ya they likes ta play jokes, and dey might be worse 'cause you's a goil."

"All I gots to say is if they play jokes on me I'll play joke on dem."

"It'll settle down after the firs' night or two." Jack said.

"I've got no objections either," said David, "I really don't think most of 'em will care that you're a girl.  I mean they've seen a strike so a girl selling papes here shouldn't faze them."

"It's settled den," Jack said, "Let's go get you signed in wit' Kloppman." 

Downstairs they filled Kloppman and Kid Blink in on the conversation upstairs.  Kid Blink was surprised, but didn't mind a girl living in the boarding house.  Kloppman's only concern was her looking like a boy when the inspectors came.  When she pulled on her hat Brooke looked enough like a boy to convince him and he decided to let her stay.  He offered to keep one of the smaller rooms for sick newsies for her, but she didn't mind staying in the bunkroom.  

Jack told her to wait at the top of the stairs as everyone started coming in.  Some of them complained about wanting to go upstairs, but Jack insisted that his announcement was very important.  The signal that everyone was back came when Race walked in with Crutchy and Les shouting about his lucky win at the races.

 "Alright everyone quiet down," Jack said, "We gots a newbie stayin' wit' us an' I want you all to treat 'er wit' respect." As he said it he pulled Brooke down the stairs.

"Jackie dat's a goil," Race argued.

"One a me friends sent her ta stay wit' us.  He she's good at sellin' papes and needs somewhere safe ta stay for a bit so we ain't gonna turn 'er away." Jack said in return.

"She ain't no real newsie," Race said, "I bets she can't even play poker or nuthin'.  She should prove herself worthy a it."

Brooke and Kid Blink shared a smile.  "How 'bout she plays you, Race," Kid Blink said, "If she wins you let her stay wit' no argument."

"Alright," he pulled a deck out of his pocket and put them on the counter.  Five minutes later he was staring wide-eyed at the girl.  She'd beaten him, no one ever beat him.  He smiled when she asked if he wanted to play again.  "I think ya made me look bad enough today."

Jack pulled her back over to the stairs, "You got a nickname?"

"Hotshot, and if you wanna find out why ya gotta make me mad.  And trust me ya don't wanna do dat."

"OK everyone, dis is Hotshot," Jack yelled out, "Who wants to help her out for the first few days?"

"I don't need help." She told him.

"Manhattan and Brooklyn are different places," he told her quietly, "you's not in Brooklyn anymore so they won't be as scared a you."  Then he turned back to his friends, "So who wants to help her out?" No one said a word, "Alright, who was the last one in here tonight?  Let's see Boots was the first one back-" 

At that moment the door opened and Specs came walking in.  "Sorry I'se late," he said, seeing everyone was still standing around downstairs.

"Well its settled den, Specs gets da job," Race said, satisfied.

"Huh?!?" Specs asked, confused.

"Blink, go explain it to 'im." Jack said.  Blink crossed the room and pulled his friend aside.

"OK, now we'll introduce you's to everybody since they knows who you are."  David said.

Jack took over, "Dis is David's brother Les, an' his sister Sarah (from the looks they gave each other it was obvious that they were dating), Racetrack or Race for short, Mush, Boots, Crutchy, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, Snipeshooter, Snitch, Jake, Bumlets, Itey, Pie Eater, Swifty, Henry…  He went on to name a few other newsies as they walked up the stairs.  When they were all introduced only Hotshot, Jack, David, Les, Sarah, Kid Blink and the boy whose name Hotshot hadn't heard when Race said it were left.  Sarah, David, and Les said goodbye and promised to meet them tomorrow before walking home.

"Alright," Jack said after they'd left, "Hotshot, dis is Specs, Specs dis is Hotshot."  Hotshot spit in her hand and held out.  Specs did the same and shook her hand.  

"So I got roped into leadin' her around for a while," Specs said, "Can't you get someone else ta do it.  She'll neva be able to keep up."

"Tell ya what," Kid Blink said, "If she can't keep up wit' you tomorrow I'll take 'er."

"It's a deal." He said, probably figuring she'd be gone by day two.

"So how old is ya anyway?" Jack asked.

"Just turned seventeen." She said.

"And you's been doin' dis since…" Kid Blink left the question hanging.

"Since I was thirteen or fourteen." She said, "I hung wit' dem since I was nine though."

"Where's dere an empty bed," Jack wondered aloud when they reached the bunkroom.  

"The one under Henry's and Specs'." Kid Blink said, "Or the one over Crutchy."

"What about the one under you?" Specs asked.

"Dats Race's bunk." He said.

Jack helped her settle her stuff in the bunk under Specs'.

About an hour later Kloppman came up and turned out the lamps.  By an hour later everyone was asleep.

Later in the night Specs woke to hear the window opening.  He looked over to see Jack climbing out to have a cigarette.  He carefully climbed down from his bunk and joined his friend.  "So why'd you stick her wit' me?" he asked.

Jack took a long drag on his cigarette, "Whaddya mean, you's were the last one in."

"Dere's more behind it den dat." Specs proclaimed. 

"Ok, Ok.  I was thinkin' a who was smart enough to keep her outta trouble, and I mean she's educated and stuff like you." He paused, "And you came to mind an' I realized you weren't dere so I said the last person to come in would hafta help 'er.  You don't mind dat much, do ya?"

"Nah, I was just wondering." He said accepting the cigarette, "But if she can't do her job good den I'se dumping her wit' Kid Blink."

"She can do it." Jack insisted.

Unknown to both of them another person in the room was awake and listening from just below the windowsill.  Sensing they were almost finished with their conversation she snuck back to bed.

Jack went on, "So whadda ya think a her?" 

"Huh," Specs looked up.

"Ya think she's pretty."

Specs smiled to himself, "Sure, why not."

The two newsies sat outside for a while longer before going to bed.


	3. Flashbacks

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 3  
  
By Megan  
  
The next morning was pretty much the same as the day before. Kloppman came upstairs to find everyone, except the girl from Brooklyn, asleep. He went through his usual routine of getting everyone up and out the door.  
  
"Ya miss us Weasel," Jack smiled standing at the distribution center's counter.  
  
The old man just rolled his eyes, "As always, a hundred?"  
  
Jack placed his money on the counter and walked off with his papers.  
  
Specs was finally fully awake as he reached the counter, "Mornin' Weasel," this provided another groan from behind the bars, to which Specs just smiled.  
  
"How many you want?" Weasel fought to keep his voice steady.  
  
"Seventy-five," he ran a hand through his hair and placed his hat back on his head. When his papers were handed to him he moved for Hotshot to get through.  
  
"Same." She said as Weasel placed her papers on the counter. She smiled sweetly at Maurice, who was nursing a black eye, and Oscar who stood inside. Weasel obviously still had no idea she was a girl.  
  
Jack shouted to them all when everyone had their papers, "Alright, who wants to go to Brooklyn for me after they finish sellin'." His gaze traveled over the crowd of newsies, skipping over Specs and Hotshot. He tossed the letter at Racetrack and Mush. "Save you's selfs some money an' deliver dis to Spot for me."  
  
When everyone started to clear out Specs began to walk in the same direction as the day before. Hotshot looked at Jack, "Who's I wit' taday."  
  
"Still wit' Specs so go catch up ta him."  
  
She took off after Specs trying to catch up to his long strides. Specs was looking back at her smiling when she reached his side. "Tired?"  
  
She just rolled her eyes and began yelling amusing, and of course false headlines. Specs followed her lead and they sold most of their papers within the first few hours.  
  
About an hour before noon while Specs was selling papers to a group of old men Hotshot let her gaze wander. Her eyes fell on a father and daughter. The man was introducing his daughter to a rich young man. Much to the girl's opposition she was being forced upon the overly kind boy. All at once familiar voices were echoing inside her head.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
"His family has a business that is growing faster than any other in New York. You'll be rich-" Her uncle announced  
  
"I could care less about having money." She argued.  
  
"I promised your parents that I would see you have a steady future."  
  
"Not with him! The guy is and ass hole!"  
  
"Young lady-"  
  
"I won't marry him!"  
  
"You will."  
  
"No."  
  
"You will."  
  
"Leave me alone. I won't."  
  
"Brooke you will."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
"Hotshot?" A hand came down on her shoulder. She turned to find Kid Blink standing with Specs behind her. "You's ok, you looked sorta out a it."  
  
Hotshot found herself breathing hard and shaking a bit, "I'se fine. Jus' gimme a minute."  
  
"Hotshot hang out wit' Blink this afternoon. I gots some stuff ta do." Specs said walking off. She just stared after him.  
  
"You sure you's ok?" Kid Blink asked.  
  
"I'm ok," she said. She walked with him as they went back to the lodging house and up to the roof. She sat with her back against the edge.  
  
"Thinkin' 'bout the past." It was a statement not a question that came from Kid Blink's mouth. She only nodded in response. "You's can't do that here, ain't allowed. For a lot a us it brings back bad memories, you too?"  
  
"Horrible ones."  
  
"'S betta not ta think about it." He smiled, "Think about the future." He thought for a moment. He'd heard what she said about him the night before and decided to go for it. He leaned in and kissed her. Unlike the many other girls he'd kissed he felt nothing when he kissed her. When he moved back her look told the same story.  
  
"You's heard what I said last night?"  
  
"Yeah," Kid Blink blushed, "I thought you was cute but it jus' don' feel right an I'se sorta got anudda goil who I think I might get along betta wit'." A smile returned to his lips. "Got any ideas on hows I can impress her."  
  
"Oh so since I ain't right ta be a goil friend I'm gonna be the friend who helps you wit' you's goil problems?" She pretended to feel offended.  
  
Kid Blink smiled and shrugged, "In return I can be a good friend, an' try ta set you's and Specs up."  
  
She laughed, "Take away the setting me up an' you's gots a deal." She spent the remainder of the afternoon giving him advice on girls. Word quickly spread when the other guys got back so she gave them a few helpful hints before yelling at Blink, who eventually told everyone to lay off.  
  
Again Specs came back to the boarding house late. The only ones who questioned him about it were Jack and Kloppman. Specs insisted that he had just lost track of time. Jack didn't buy it but let it slide.  
  
Race and Mush came in late as well. They came with a letter for Jack, from Spot.  
  
They also gave Hotshot messages from her friends and a letter from Spot. When everyone had settled in various areas around the room she sat on her bed to read it.  
  
Dear Hotshot,  
  
I hear things is goin' well in Manhattan. I knew they would. You know I have a natural ability ta know dese things. Things back here is doin' ok. I jus' wish I had you's help controllin' everybody. Be glad to know that you's missed; I'se got some complaints from the guys on the street askin' for da goil who sells papes.  
  
You know I miss ya too right. I could use one of our nights out about now. Da bulls is still checkin' out the streets an' da pier. I got questioned 'bout you more than t'ree times taday. I'll write ya when it's safe. Good luck in Manhattan.  
  
~Spot.  
  
She smiled and slid the note into the bag under her bed. When she looked up she found Specs staring at her. "Who's da letter from."  
  
"Spot," she smiled faintly before turning over in her bunk.  
  
That night Kid Blink was the one outside with Jack. The kiss came up as part of the conversation and Kid informed Jack that nothin' else was gonna happen. "I think we need ta set Specs an' Hotshot up. Dey's poifect for eachotha."  
  
"If they don' get tagetha in a few weeks I'm plannin' on doin' it meself." Jack laughed, "but we gots ta give 'em at least another two weeks 'fore we start anything."  
  
Within the next week and a half Hotshot adjusted to the Manhattan schedule. By exactly two weeks after she came she too was still asleep when Kloppman came upstairs to wake them. One thing remained however; she was easier to get up. She was always up the first time Kloppman yelled. The remembrance of Spot pouring a bucket of ocean water on her when she refused to get up on her first day lingered in her mind.  
  
Jack had spread the word through the others by now that they would try and set Specs and Hotshot up. The only ones who didn't know about if were Specs and Hotshot. Dutchy was the one everyone was always going after. He was Specs' best friends and had come close to letting it slip many times.  
  
Even after two weeks Jack still made Hotshot sell with Specs. Neither of them really minded anymore; they'd worked out a system of selling and were up to almost two hundred papers a day.  
  
One day Hotshot saw the girl and her father again. He was still trying to force her to go with the boy. Hotshot's heart went out to the girl.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
"His family has a business that is growing faster than any other in New York. You'll be rich-" Her uncle announced. He seemed taller and more powerful than ever  
  
"I could care less about having money." She argued. She hated this man more than anything now. Fist he forbid her from going anywhere and then he decided she should marry some businessman's halfwit son  
  
"I promised your parents that I would see you have a steady future."  
  
"Not with him! The guy is and ass hole!" She knew that her parents had left her everything they had, which included thousands of dollars, and their home in the outer limits of Manhattan. That alone could support her for the majority of her life. Her uncle only wanted her to marry this man because his family was rich and he would get some of the money he made  
  
"Young lady-" He was furious. He walked over to her seeming taller and more powerful.  
  
"I won't marry him!"  
  
"You will."  
  
"No."  
  
"You will."  
  
"Leave me alone. I won't." She wanted to run from the room but that would just prove him stronger. She couldn't do that. Spot had taught her to never back down.  
  
"Brooke you will."  
  
"No." He'd used her first name so he was really mad. She still refused to see him win. All she had to do was wait and he'd back down.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No." Or not.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
"Hotshot…"  
  
"Lemme alone!" she yelled turning and running right past Specs who was standing behind her.  
  
For a second Specs watched the younger girl run, then took off after her. She may have been shorter than he was but she was fast and had a head start.  
  
She had already realized that it was Specs and not her uncle that she was running from but Hotshot just needed to get away. She darted into an alley and collapsed behind a stack of boxes.  
  
Specs had seen her run into the alley. Instead of merely walking down it he looked around. Years living with the newsies he knew all their tricks for hiding. When he found Hotshot she was on the ground with the same labored breathing and slight shaking. Instead of tapping her on the shoulder he stood on the other side of the alley; a smart choice as Bumlets had learned the hard way. He snuck up on her once when she was reading. When he tapped her on the shoulder she spun around and gave him a bloody nose. This was the reason Specs chose to stand by the other wall until she looked at him.  
  
Hotshot sat on the ground willing herself not to cry. She hadn't cried since she was eight and was not about to start again. She began to go through the all too familiar sequence of questions that ran through her mind when she remembered something about life before the newsies. 'When will he find me? Does he know where I am? What'll I do if I get sent back? What if he still wants me to marry Daniel?'  
  
Just the though of him sent another shiver down her spine. The son of a wealthy businessman, Daniel thought he could get whatever he wanted just by saying so. He was accustomed to young women throwing themselves at him, which was why he was attracted to Hotshot. She had been completely uninterested in him when they first met, and even more when she got to know him. Since she'd refused his marriage proposal at the age of thirteen he'd gone and asked her uncle. He'd immediately agreed always welcoming more money, barely even concerned enough to mention that it would have to wait until she was seventeen or eighteen. He wasn't the reason she'd run, that was her uncle, but he was the person who'd finally helped her gather up enough courage to do it. The thought of marrying him was easily enough to scare her away. She was only thankful that Spot was willing to take her in.  
  
By the time she'd thought all of this through Hotshots breathing had returned to normal and she'd stopped shaking. She brought her head up and let it rest against the brick wall behind her. Now she'd have to go find Specs and apologize for running off.  
  
"You about ready to head back?"  
  
At the sound of the voice she jumped and was one her feet, slingshot ready, in seconds. When she found Specs standing there she sighed. Obviously Manhattan newsies used the same method to ditch the bulls. "Well it's nice to know Manhattan newsies are educated."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Newsies from most places woulda jus' walked down the alley."  
  
"Most newsies don' hafta fend off the Delancy bruthas," he held out a hand to her, "You ready ta go?"  
  
She accepted his hand and he pulled her up. "How long were we there for?"  
  
"Almos' half an hour."  
  
She cursed quietly in a strange language under her breath. This caused Specs to raise an eyebrow. He questioned her as they left the alley.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Huh?" she looked up at him confused.  
  
"That language you were talking in. What was it?"  
  
A blush spread across her cheeks, "Spanish, my mother's family is form Spain so she made sure I learned it when I was growing up. It's very useful when talking to enemies."  
  
"Yeah, it confuses them and lefts you attack or get away. The only difference is I use Latin."  
  
"You're educated?" she asked, both of them had lost the trace of a New York accent.  
  
"Obviously you are too."  
  
She just shrugged and they continued to walk. As Specs turned in a different direction when they neared the boarding house she gave him a questioning look. He didn't even look at her just continued walking. He climbed the fire escape of a tall building and settled down on the roof. She sat next to him recognizing the roof of the building the Jacobs' lived in.  
  
A few minutes later Sarah walked out onto the roof with a few books under her arm. "Hey Specs." She said when she saw him. She placed the books on the table and opened one to the needed page.  
  
"So what do ya need me help on tonight?" His accent quickly returned to the newsie tongue.  
  
"Conjugations," she said, "My teacher gave us some new verbs today and I'm not sure if my conjugations are right." When she looked up she saw Hotshot. "Oh, hey Hotshot."  
  
Hotshot only nodded in response and took off her hat. She sat down and pushed her hair out of her eyes.  
  
For close to two hours afterward Specs and Sarah sat looking at her textbooks. Specs explained the verbs and Sarah nodded in understanding. Sarah had brought up some sandwiches for the three of them halfway through. It was dark when they left, and they were going to be late for curfew. Specs and Hotshot ran back to the boarding house at a sprint. Kloppman and Jack were waiting inside and questioned them. Hotshot followed Specs' example and kept her mouth shut.  
  
"So why were you at the Jacobs'?" she asked when everyone had separated for the night.  
  
"Sarah is having trouble with her Latin. David didn't do so good at it when he was in school so he asked me to tutor her 'cause he knew I took it 'fore I came here. No one knows 'cept him."  
  
"Jack doesn't know."  
  
"No. David thought he might not be comfortable wit' his goil friend seein' anudda boy every week." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, "Can you imagine Jack overreacting. Les said that Sarah told him which would explain why he don't question me no more."  
  
"Heya Hotshot!" Racetracks voice broke their conversation, "We's need anudda player for poker, you in?"  
  
She got up smiling. "How much money am I gonna get from you tonight Race."  
  
"None."  
  
"Wishful thinkin'."  
  
The other players were quick to fold in the games, which made it a battle of lies between Race and Hotshot. Jack came into the room and stood over them.  
  
"Kelly if you's tells him what I gots I'll give you a black eye."  
  
"Yeah right," he muttered.  
  
"I done it to Spot 'fore so take a seat."  
  
He flopped down on the bed before the two of them showed their cards. Race cried out with happiness at having the better hand. "Shoulda quit while you was ahead."  
  
"Race, you do know you's gots less money now then when we started right?"  
  
"Sure, why."  
  
She rolled her eyes and stood up. "That's it. I'se goin' ta bed."  
  
  
  
AN/ Hey, this story just got stuck in my head so I'm writing it out. I'm really hoping for some more reviews. Is you have any suggestions or sumthin' e-mail me. Blah…blah…blah… ye know the drill……… 


	4. Trouble

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 4  
  
By Megan  
  
When Hotshot picked up her papers the next morning she noticed that Maurice and Oscar weren't in their usual spots behind the bars. "Hey Weasel, where's dose bums you calls nephews?"  
  
"They got the day off, now get outta me face." What else was new, Weasel was in a bad mood. He was snapping at all the newsies, which just gave Jack an easier time bugging him.  
  
That day they gathered into a larger group. Dutchy, Kid Blink, and Mush were with them. They wandered around town all morning selling their papers and joking around. After they grabbed a quick lunch at Tibby's they walked to the other end of town.  
  
"Hey newsies," the call broke through the sounds the group was producing. They looked up to find Oscar and Maurice strolling over.  
  
"You know, I thought I smelled sumthin' awful," Hotshot remarked.  
  
Oscar glared at her obviously planning some kind of revenge. "The only thing that stinks around here is trash like the five a you."  
  
"Ya know ya don' mean that scab," Kid Blink said, "The only trash 'round here lies in the gutter an' dat would be your job wouldn't it." The thin drizzle that had started added to the building tension.  
  
Without warning Oscar threw himself at Kid Blink and Hotshot saw Maurice pull out his dangerous brass knuckles. Kid Blink dove out of the way and the other four scattered.  
  
Dutchy had also seen the brass knuckles and called out a warning. He'd been beat up with them once and wasn't in a hurry to see someone else after they'd gotten beat. "It ain't worth the time guys let's go."  
  
As he said that the familiar sound of horses hooves could be heard. That could mean only one thing; the bulls. Specs' eyes went quickly to Hotshot. Even if the bulls weren't looking for her if she got in trouble they'd figure out who she was. Both Jack and Spot would soak the four who were there with her. "Scram, it's the bulls!" he yelled.  
  
The four others took off in the same direction with the Delancy's chasing after them. Oscar grabbed for Hotshot but only got her hat. Mush leaned over and whispered to Specs, "Get Hotshot outta here. We'll get rid a 'em. Meet you at the square in an hour." With that Mush, Kid Blink, and Dutchy swerved back toward the Delancy's.  
  
Specs grabbed Hotshots arm and steered her into the alley. They ran as fast as they could through the maze of alleys, both of them getting soaked in the process. Hotshot slowed to a walk and leaned against a wall. Her clothes were plastered to her body, and her shoulder length brown hair fell in clumps around her face. Specs didn't look much better. Even with his hat his hair still managed to get plastered to his forehead. He pulled off his hat and leaned against the opposite wall breathing hard. As they each looked up their eyes met and both of them started laughing.  
  
Specs tried hard to stop his laughter and quickly succeeded in doing so. He stood in front of Hotshot and took deep breaths to keep from laughing again. She seemed to be trying to catch her breath as well. Specs didn't know what came over him when she looked at him again. Something in him told him to do something so he did.  
  
As Hotshot finally regained her ability to breath properly she stood up and looked up at Specs. Before she could react his lips were on hers. Normally if this had happened she would have been surprised enough to jump back. The wall she was leaning against prevented her from doing so. Something inside her seemed to break as he kissed her and she kissed him back. The way he kissed her proved that he had experience with girls. He pulled back after a few seconds with a shocked look on his face.  
  
"I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." He quickly apologized. "I shouldn't have-"  
  
She quickly silenced him with another kiss. She had actually liked the feeling she got when he kissed her. Him not pulling back showed that he felt the same. When they finally pulled back from each other a second time she smiled, "Don't apologize, I liked it."  
  
He smiled back at her blushing. After a moment or two of awkward silence he spoke, "We'd better get back to the square."  
  
She nodded in agreement and took his hat off his head. Specs was going to yell at her for it but stopped when he realized why she needed it. The turned and slowly made their way back to the square where Mush, Kid Blink and Dutchy were waiting. Hotshot surveyed the damage. Dutchy had a long scratch that ran the length of his arm. Kid Blink seemed untouched except for the scratch under his good eye. Mush had gotten the worst of it, a black eye.  
  
"Where you's two been?" Mush shouted, "We's been here for ten minutes."  
  
"Long story," Specs explained.  
  
Dutchy handed Hotshot her hat and they walked the rest of the way back to the boarding house. When they reached the bunkroom Jack was the first one to notice them.  
  
"What the hell happened to you!" he yelled seeing their battle scars.  
  
"Jus' a lil' run in wit' the Delancy's." Kid Blink explained, "We'll be fine."  
  
"Yeah," Mush added, "You should see them."  
  
At this a smile crossed Jack's face, "Tell."  
  
"Well Maurice's gots a broken nose, Oscar got a black eye. Plenty a cuts an' bruises an' they's in need of a new set a clothes." Dutchy proudly shared.  
  
Specs and Hotshot along with everyone else cheered. Jack just shook his head grinning and ushered the three injured soldiers downstairs to clean up their wounds. Specs and Hotshot walked over to their bunks, each grabbing a set of clean clothes and went to the washroom to change. Specs sat down to read the days paper when he came out and Hotshot joined Race's nightly game of poker.  
  
The next morning everyone saw Oscar and Maurice just as the three fighters had described them the previous night. A roar of laughter echoed through the place and everyone lingered an extra second to see the soaked scabs.  
  
Specs and Hotshot were selling alone again that morning. They were supposed to meet Jack at Tibby's at noon. He wanted to introduce Hotshot to Medda but hadn't had a chance to yet. They found a spot that was not crowded with newsies and began yelling headlines. When Hotshot only had one paper left she walked around looking for someone to buy it. She stopped near an older man. "Buy me last pape, Sir?"  
  
"Which one is it?" he asked, looking to see it was the world, "Ah, only sellin' the best."  
  
"Yes sir." She fought to control her voice and was saved when Specs stepped up behind her.  
  
"Mornin' Mista Pulitzer," he said coldly.  
  
"Good morning," Pulitzer replied in the same cold voice. He handed Hotshot a nickel, never once looking at her face. "Keep the change." He turned and marched off. Specs smiled at knowing that the newsies still seemed to have some control over Pulitzer. He was too busy smiling triumphantly to notice Hotshot shaking nervously.  
  
"Let's go," he said walking towards Tibby's. Hotshot knocked herself out of her daze and followed him. Jack, Les and David were seated around one of the smaller tables inside. Specs took the seat beside Jack and Hotshot pulled a chair between his and Les'. She smiled at the younger boy as he bit into a hot dog.  
  
"I think Hotshot here just topped us all for sellin' ta the strangest person," Specs said.  
  
Jack looked at her, "Who'd you's sell to."  
  
"Pulitzer hisself." She grinned not showing a trace of the fear that had lingered only moments before.  
  
Jack and David laughed and Jack pushed himself up from his chair. "So who's ready for a show at Medda's?" The other four dragged themselves to their feet at different paces and followed Jack down the street. Instead of taking the front door inside Jack took them around back and entered the backstage area.  
  
A woman that seemed to be in her twenties was walking down the ramp in the back. "Ah, Kelly, where ya been?" she asked draping an arm around his shoulders.  
  
He smiled, "Medda you remember Specs, David and Les."  
  
"Good to see you again boys." She said smiling.  
  
Jack pulled Hotshot forward. "Medda this is Hotshot, a newbie. Hotshot this is Medda, the Swedish Meadow Lark."  
  
Medda smiled, "I heard you've been here a while kid. Jack how come you're just bringing him around now?"  
  
Jack reached over and pulled off Hotshots cap, "Well she's tryin' to settle in and I ain't had any free time."  
  
Medda's smile grew, "A goil newsie."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
  
"This is wonderful. You're keeping these gentlemen in line I hope."  
  
"A few black eyes," Hotshot said smiling.  
  
The conversation lasted another couple minutes before Medda had to go back onstage. Jack led his friends over to the backstage viewing area. Jack and David were very interested in the show and Les was into his candy, which allowed Specs and Hotshot to sneak off and be alone for a while. They talked for a little while before Specs got up the courage to kiss her again.  
  
* * *  
  
"So why did you bring 'er here," Medda asked, "Does she need a job?"  
  
"Jack shook his head, "Not a job, just a hiding place. If da bulls search the boarding house or whateva she's got ta have somewhere to run. She could work here if they were looking for her. Jus' for a few days. They wouldn't think ta look here. Wadda ya say Medda?"  
  
"Of course she can stay here," Medda said, "When have I ever turned any of you away? The only question I have is what will she do?"  
  
"She can dance an' sing, but I don' think you'd be able to get her to wear a dress." Jack smiled.  
  
"Well if she can't do anything she can just hide in the extra room upstairs," Medda decided, "You boys had better get going."  
  
Jack nodded and stood up. Calling out his friends' names he walked toward the door. All of them came from different directions. "Thanks Medda!" he shouted over his shoulder as they left. A chorus of replies from the others followed.  
  
* * *  
  
Jack pulled Hotshot aside when they reached the lodging house. He let the others go upstairs and made her sit down. "Alright, I was talkin' to Medda taday. If the bulls ever come here lookin' for ya you's gonna need someplace else ta stay for a few days. Medda said you could stay at her place. How's that sound?"  
  
She shrugged, "It don' really matter jus' as long as I never go back ta me family. So if someone says the bulls are here go ta Medda's."  
  
"Yeah, or if you see 'em snoopin' 'round here," he paused, "Spot neva told me what happened wit' your family an' Kid Blink said you was rememberin' the otha day." He leaned against the wall, "You wanna talk about it?"  
  
She looked up and met his eyes, "It's not sumthin' I like ta remember, so I really don' like ta talk about it." As she spoke she let her eyes drift around the room. "As far as I'se concerned this is me family now an' they always have been."  
  
Jack frowned figuring it must have been really bad if she was so against even thinking about it, "That's a common though around here." He said, "Now you'd better get upstairs to try ta get Race to swear off bettin'."  
  
He was glad to see the smile that crossed her face, "That ain't possible."  
  
"Well at least get up there and do some damage to that over inflated ego a his," he smiled.  
  
She got up and walked up the stairs. She dropped to the floor between Race and Skittery. "Deal me in," she said. True to her promise she did a good amount of damage to Racetrack's ego. "C'mon ya Italian midget, hand ova me money." She said at the end of the night.  
  
"Italian midget, don' call me that, I'll soak you!" As he turned in her direction she pulled out her slingshot and set in. As he was facing her directly all he saw was the wooden part of her slingshot. He ducked out of the way even though she didn't let go of the elastic. "Are you's tryin' ta kill me." He said pulling a few coins out of his pocket.  
  
"Me," she asked innocently taking her winnings.  
  
"How'd ya do?" Jack asked coming into the room.  
  
"His ego's been deflated enough for one night." she smiled climbing into bed.  
  
About halfway through the night a loud thud woke Hotshot up. She sat up in her bunk hitting her head on the bottom of Specs'.  
  
"Damn!" she rubbed her head praying there wouldn't be a bruise there the next morning. She continued swearing in Spanish, English, and even some Dutch that Dutchy had taught her as she fumbled for her glasses and let her eyes adjust to the dark. When she could finally see she found Boots on the floor looking around in confusion. She got up and walked over to where he was laying, "You ok?"  
  
He looked up at her with his chocolate brown eyes wide with fear. Sweat was glistening on his face and his shoulders shook uncontrollably. "There gonna get me," he gasped.  
  
"Whoa!" she grabbed his shoulders, "It's ok Boots. Pal you're in the lodging house. You're safe here. I promise no one is gonna hurt you." As she said this she slid an arm around his shoulders trying to comfort him.  
  
He seemed to calm down a little and take hold of his surroundings. Obviously he'd thought he was somewhere else when he woke up. "Oh my God," he moaned, "Not again."  
  
"Are you ok Boots?" she asked quietly.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Do you wanna go back to bed?"  
  
He nodded again and began to climb back into bed. As he started doing so Jack, who had been awake the whole time, finally found himself awake enough to get up out of bed. Boots hitting his knee on the metal bunk may have been the reason he got up. "I'm comin' Boots," he said. This showed that he hadn't heard them talking.  
  
When he got over to the bunk he looked at Hotshot and figured out what happened. "You's gonna be alright Boots?" he asked.  
  
The younger newsie nodded and rolled over.  
  
Jack pulled Hotshot out to the fire escape seeing the confused look on her face.  
  
"What was that about?" she asked as Jack closed the window most of the way.  
  
"Boots has nightmares occasionally." Jack said, "After he was born his parents was killed an' they sent him to an orphanage. The folks that run it would beat the kids if they did sumthin' wrong. If they didn't know who did it they'd pick one a the kids an' jus' beat 'im harder. They was real prejudice too. Since Boots is black they usually picked him outta all the kids (I don't mean to offend anybody. I'm just trying to show how unfair life was for different people back then). He's scared a goin' back there an' it gives hi awful nightmares."  
  
Hotshot was shocked. Parts of her life had been somewhat similar to his, though obviously he had been hitten more brutally. "Poor kid," she whispered.  
  
"Yeah, that's what the rest of us say too," Jack continued, "Jus' don' bring it up during the day or he gets real upset about it."  
  
She nodded and began to open the window.  
  
"Hotshot," At Jack's voice she turned around, "Don't say anything about this tomorrow, to anyone."  
  
She nodded again and climbed inside.  
  
Jack sat outside for a few more minutes thinking about everything and then carefully slid in the window and climbed back in his bed hoping there wouldn't be any more trouble for a few days.  
  
The next morning everyone was up at their normal time. They met David and Les at the distribution station. Les was complaining about how he'd lost his toy sword. "David thinks I left it on the roof but I didn't have time to check before we left," he told Boots.  
  
Hotshot smiled, Les was never seen without the little wooden sword that he liked to swing around. She pulled the ever-present slingshot out of her pocket and walked over to them. "Here Les, why don't you borrow this today," she said holding it out to him.  
  
Les' eyes lit up, "Really, thanks Hotshot." He accepted the new weapon from her and smiled widely up at his older brother.  
  
"Sure, David or Jack can teach you guys how to use it an' you can just send it back with Jack tonight." (By the way she taught a few other newsies to use a slingshot) She threw a few coins up to Specs to buy papers.  
  
"Alright," Les said gripping it tightly as he and Boots ran off to show their other friends.  
  
Specs walked down the ramp and draped an arm around her shoulder in a friendly way, not the way most buys did to their girlfriends. "C'mon, we's got papers to sell." He said dragging her off.  
  
The day's headlines were good enough that they didn't have to exaggerate, much. They had sold all of them easily by mid-afternoon. Mush and Skittery walked with them a little out of boredom.  
  
When all the papers were sold and they were heading back to the lodging house Specs glanced at his pocket watch. "I'll meet you back at the lodging house tonight. I'se gotta go help Sarah study."  
  
"Alright," she said.  
  
He turned and kissed her quickly making sure no one saw. Then he waved walking down the street in the direction of the Jacobs' house.  
  
Hotshot smiled and watched him go. When he was out of sight she continued to walk back to the lodging house. It was quicker to go through the alleys so she began to walk that way. It was starting to get dark making it more dangerous to take them but she felt as safe here as she had in Brooklyn so she figured she could protect herself. She walked past a pile of crates to hear a whisper. That sound stopped her in her tracks for a split second before her reflexes told her to run. The split second was what caused her to get caught.  
  
A hand caught a tight grip on her arm. "Ain't that cute," Oscar drawled, "Four eyes and little miss tough stuff here are dating."  
  
She immediately pulled out of his grip and reached for her back pocket. Realizing that her slingshot wasn't there she looked up again to see her two attackers standing there smiling.  
  
"You know, I've been hearing rumors," Maurice said, "A bunch a people are saying that you don't fight as good as you say you do."  
  
She kept her face blank trying not to show the fear that was screaming inside her head. She wanted to run but was cornered against the wall. She could have taken them on if someone else was there but not by herself. Maybe she could fit through the space between them and get back to the lodging house. She decided to try and ran at full speed into the space between them. She got by, but before she could get to the end of the alley one of them tackled her.  
  
Their fists began to pound her body, painfully. She rolled onto her back trying to get away or at least fight them off. She got in a few good punches before Oscar pulled her hands behind her back. She kicked out at his older brother and was rewarded with a swift kick in the stomach. She held them off as long as she could but it was useless to fight. After a few moments she found the edges of her vision graying and gave in to the darkness that surrounded her.  
  
Long after she had passed out they beat on her. Only when they were sure she was hurt enough did Maurice pick her up and carry her to the park. He placed her on the ground half hidden by a bush making it nearly impossible to see her. He smiled at his brother and they walked off.  
  
Specs got back from the Jacobs' fairly early that evening. It was already dark but there was more than an hour until curfew. He walked up to the bunkroom where everyone was sitting around a large game of poker. Race and Jack were in a battle and neither seemed willing to back down. "Kill 'im Jack," he said encouraging his friend.  
  
Jack looked up at him and frowned when he didn't see Hotshot. "Uh Specs, where's Hotshot?"  
  
"I had to go over to the Jacobs' earlier. She came back her on her own." Specs said looking around the room to point her out. He and Jack realized at the same time that she wasn't there. Jack dropped his cards, revealing that he would have beaten Racetrack and Specs' jaw dropped.  
  
"Did any of you's see her back here today?" Jack asked everyone.  
  
No one could report that they had seen her.  
  
"She's got her slingshot though," Specs said, "She can protect herself with that.  
  
Jack pulled the slingshot out of his back pocket; "No she lent it to Les today."  
  
Specs' stomach seemed to twist into knots. She was out at night alone and she didn't have any form of protection.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Jack yelling to everyone to get into groups of two or three for a search. Jack was searching with Racetrack and Kid Blink, and Specs was with David. Those as well as the other groups set off in the direction that she would have come back from.  
  
Specs was checking the alleys knowing that she was used to walking home that way. Jacks group was searching the streets around the square and the park.  
  
"Jack, c'mere," Kid Blink hissed.  
  
Jack ran over to where Blink was standing at the park's entrance. A completely serious face replaced the smile that was usually on Blink's face. "I think I found her," he said. He led Jack and Racetrack to the bushes where she was laying in the grass, obviously beaten and unconscious. Jack rolled the girl onto her back to find out it was their friend.  
  
"Kid, go get David and Specs. Don't act all nervous about it 'cause you'll worry them." Jack wasn't asking he was ordering. "An' Racetrack try to find some a the others."  
  
As his friends took off Jack began to wipe some of the blood from her face using the red handkerchief that he had tied around his neck. Race came back with a group of them who gathered around. "Who was it?" Race asked.  
  
Jack's eyes blazed angrily, "The Delancy's." He clenched his teeth and took a few deep breaths.  
  
Specs came running up and tried to push through the crowd. "Get outta me way!" he was yelling frantically to his friends. They all cleared a path for him and let him get next to Jack. Specs' face paled and he dropped to his knees. "Please tell me she ain't dead."  
  
"No," Jack said, "But we need to get her to a doctor."  
  
"I'll kill those Delancy bruthas." Specs cursed. He got up to do what he promised.  
  
Jack grabbed his shoulders, "Not now." He turned to everyone else and began giving orders. Dutchy carried her back to the boarding house and they put her in one of the private rooms instead of the bunkroom.  
  
Again Jack realized he needed to give more orders, "Snipeshooter, an' Skittery go get the doctor. Specs go down to the pier in Brooklyn an' get Spot. Tell 'im it's urgent."  
  
The three newsies scurried off in different directions. Kloppman too was yelling a few orders to clean up her wounds and make her more comfortable. Within the next ten minutes the doctor came and by the end of his examination and bandaging Spot and Specs were there too. 


	5. Awakening

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 5  
  
By Megan  
  
Hotshot woke to find herself in a strange room. Though she hadn't looked around she could tell she wasn't in the bunkroom. There was no sound of other newsies, and she wasn't staring up at the bottom of Specs' bunk. To add to the problems she was sore all over and why she felt that way had not come back to her yet. The light in her eyes was what made her think she needed to get up. There was far too much light for her to still be in bed. She and the others should be up and selling papers by now.  
  
She also felt a slight weight pressing against her side. Turning to see what or who it was reminded her of the steady ach coursing through her body. She found Specs staring down at her from a chair beside her bed. "Specs, what the hell happened?" she asked.  
  
He smiled at her ability to talk, "They're gonna be glad you're awake." He turned to call out the door.  
  
"Get back here," she yelled as loudly as she could at him. "What happened?"  
  
Specs sat back down in his chair and took her hand. "Do you remember lending Les your slingshot?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"And then that afternoon I was going to help Sarah study and you were going back to the boarding house."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"An' you took the alleys on the way back…"  
  
She nodded again and groaned as the memories filled her head. "How long was I out?"  
  
"It would have been four days tonight." He said, "Everyone was really worried the first day 'cause they didn't know if you were gonna be ok. Spot was-"  
  
"Whoa! Back up! Spot's here!"  
  
"Yeah, Jack sent me down to Brooklyn to get him once we got you back here."  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
"You still awake?" Specs asked.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"You wanna try to get out of bed?" He looked at her. Spot, Jack, Kid an' some a the others are gonna be back in about an hour."  
  
She forced herself to sit up he helped her out of bed. There were bandaged wrapped all around her arms where Maurice had hit her with his brass knuckles. There were probably more under her clothes too. Luckily they hadn't done much to her legs. All that happened was a slight pain in her left knee.  
  
Specs helped her downstairs where Kloppman gave her something to eat. Then she and Specs sat down in the lobby. "So you went to Brooklyn by yourself?"  
  
Specs smiled, "I didn't even notice until I got back. Jack told me to get Spot so I ran full speed across the bridge. I ran into that bully that I saw before, the one that beat me up, I hit him once and told him to stay out of my way. He did it too. When I told Spot he didn't say anything. He just started running back with me."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
They both looked up to see Spot standing in the doorway. He came over and hugged her lightly, avoiding the bandages. "It's so good to see you awake," he said, "When your lover boy here came to the pier I thought he was havin' a heart attack or sumthin'. He's been a wreck the past few days."  
  
Hotshot glanced at Specs.  
  
"Oh and everybody knows about us. I kind of overreacted and they figured it out. They were plannin' on settin' us up anyway." Specs smiled as a blush spread across his face.  
  
Just then a few more of them came in. Jack, Race, David and Kid Blink to be exact. Their faces all broke into grins when they saw her awake.  
  
Before any of them said anything Hotshot fired out a question, "Jack when can I go back out?"  
  
David started laughing slightly as the others just stared at her. Spot soon joined him. "I swear she was born a newsie," Spot said.  
  
"The Doc says two weeks," The look on Jack's face was amused but serious. "You, me, an' Spot gots ta talk," he looked around adding, "Alone."  
  
The other three stood and walked upstairs. Specs seemed to want to argue but was silenced when Kid grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him along.  
  
"What?" she asked looking up to see the serious look both their faces had taken. Jack, she knew, was like that only when someone else was hurt, but she hadn't seen Spot look that serious in a long time.  
  
"You was talkin' in your sleep Brooke," Spot used her real name, "Talkin' about sumthin' only I knows about. Everyone in the lodging house heard you at least once an' some a them might be stupid enough to ask you about it."  
  
She groaned at the though of having to tell it all again. She'd told Spot when she was thirteen and hadn't told the story since. Now it looked like she might have to. She put her face in her hands as her headache started to worsen.  
  
Jack seemed to sense how she felt and walked off in the direction of the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and a pill to ease the pain. She gladly accepted and swallowed the pill. "I know it's hard but I think it might be easier around here if you told us what was going on." Jack said taking the chair that had moments earlier been used by Specs.  
  
Spot took a few steps toward her and she looked up to meet his clear, superior seeming gaze. "I want you to at least tell Jack." He ordered, "He can decide if the rest of them should know."  
  
"I ain't tellin' it twice Spot. You remember when I told you," she said, "I'll tell everyone at the same time. That is on three conditions."  
  
"What?" Jack looked up confused.  
  
"First, move me back into the bunkroom."  
  
"But you just woke up today. The Doc wants you in your own room for at least another week."  
  
"Would you move back into that room in less than a week?" Her glare and Spot's forced Jack to reveal that he would.  
  
"Second, Spot's gotta stay while I do." She looked at Spot in a pleading way.  
  
He nodded, "I ain't goin' nowhere till after that anyway."  
  
"What's the last one?" Jack asked.  
  
"Let me go back out in a week."  
  
"That's not possible. The Doc was really insistent that you not go out."  
  
She looked at Spot for support in her decision but he shook his head agreeing with Jack. "You may think you's healthy but you should stay here and get back to normal." His eyes were stern and commanding, but at the same time showed concern and fear.  
  
"Alright," she agreed, "Two weeks but not a day more."  
  
They decided that she would tell everyone what had happened the next night. Spot would be leaving the morning after to help Lockpick get the Brooklyn boys back under control.  
  
When the other guys came back downstairs Specs sat down next to her. David's face held a questioning look. "What's on your mind Mouth?" Spot asked.  
  
"Hotshot, would you mind talkin' to Les today or tomorrow? He thinks it's his fault that you got hurt."  
  
She looked up at David, "Yeah, bring him over later today. I wouldn't a been able to hold them off very long wit' it anyway."  
  
True to his word David brought a very upset Les over later that afternoon. It took Hotshot more than ten minutes to convince the younger boy that it had not been his fault that she was hurt and it would have happened either way.  
  
That night she kicked Spot out of the bunk he'd been using, hers of course. He moved his slingshot to one of the other beds and leaned against its frame. She stretched out on her bed and picked up one of the papers that Race had been unable to sell that day. She put on her glasses and scanned a few articles. When she got bored she spoke up.  
  
"So how was you's day at the tracks Race?" she asked.  
  
"Not half as good as my winnings 'round here," Race said, not looking up from the cards he was dealing.  
  
Spot was watching the game of poker going on in the center of the room. It was very amusing to see Racetrack beating all the other newsies, most of whom were older than he was. He'd have to bring Royal up here next time. Barely anyone in Brooklyn could beat him, and a game with him and Race would mean hours of entertainment for everyone watching.  
  
"You up for a game, Spot?" Race asked as he saw the Brooklyn newsie staring.  
  
Spot shook his head, "Nah, maybe tomorrow." He wasn't up to letting everyone see him get whipped. When he glanced over at Hotshot there was a knowing look in her eye. She was laughing at him. He met her gaze and mumbled, "What's so funny?"  
  
She just turned her head back to the newspaper.  
  
The next morning Kloppman came in to wake them. Spot was already stretched out on his bed; ready to go like Hotshot had been when she first arrived. Hotshot on the other hand slept through the entire time it took the guys to get ready and leave.  
  
Specs wanted to stay with her that day but Jack and Spot didn't like the idea. "You ain't sold since she got hoit." Spot said.  
  
"An' you promised you'd go back out when she woke up," Jack said, "Spot'll stay wit' 'er today."  
  
Specs continued to complain a little as Jack led him down the stairs and across the square to the distribution office. He only stopped when Jack jumped onto a barrel and waved for everyone's attention. "Ev'rybody, be sure to get back to the lodgin' house early tonight. We gots ta talk about sumthin' really important and it ain't gonna be repeated." When the boys nodded in understanding he jumped down.  
  
"What's up tonight?" Specs asked buying his papers after Jack and David had gotten theirs.  
  
"Brooke's gonna tell us what happened, why she was sayin' that stuff when she was sleepin'."  
  
"Brooke," Specs looked at him confused, "Who's Brooke?"  
  
Jack smiled and put an arm around his shoulders, "Dat's right, you wasn't there. Hotshot's real name is Brooke. Make more sense now?"  
  
Specs only nodded and shrugged Jack's arm off his shoulders before he started walking away.  
  
* * *  
  
"Hey, En Brooklyn, time ta get up," Spot said in a stern voice.  
  
Hotshot swatted at his face, "Go away, Spot," she mumbled.  
  
"I'll drop you in the harbor again," his voice got louder, "En Brooklyn, get up!!!"  
  
She sat up and pushed him off of her bunk, "Don' call me that."  
  
"It's your name," he smiled, "Manhattan is makin' you lazy."  
  
She rolled her eyes, "It ain't you's name for me, it's me brudah's an' what's wrong wit' me stayin' in bed here?"  
  
"If you's ain't getting' up by yousself when you come back ta Brooklyn I'll hafta throw you in the harbor again." His voice was completely serious.  
  
"C'mon Spot," she said, "No one made you get up after you was hoit las' year."  
  
"Dat's 'cause I'se Spot Conlon."  
  
She laughed, "You's mean the Spot Conlon I'se given a black eye before."  
  
He frowned.  
  
"Sorry," she said, "I'll get used to Brooklyn time 'fore I come back, don' worry." She lay back down and rolled over.  
  
Spot poked her with the tip of his slingshot.  
  
She cried out in pain and shot up in bed, "Beat it Conlon." She reached out to slap him, but missed because he ducked away. She rubbed her bruised side and glared at him.  
  
"You ain't getting' up then?" Her glare answered his question, "Alright then I'll be back in an hour." He walked over to the window and climbed down the fire escape.  
  
Hotshot shook her head and rolled over to go back to sleep. Her hopes of peaceful sleeping for a few hours were ruined by the nightmares that plagued her mind. She tossed and turned in her bed as memories came flooding back to her. When she woke again she was relieved to find that Spot wasn't back yet. She jumped out of bed, or at least tried to, and changed into actual clothes. Today all of her muscles were sore from the pressure she'd put on them the day before. She was tempted to sneak out but was sure of her punishment if she did. Instead she picked up a spare paper off of the floor and searched through the pages for something interesting.  
  
Kid Blink was back at the lodging house before Spot. He'd found a group of men walking on a tour of the town and sold all of the papers he had left after the first two hours. He'd gotten into a bit of a fight with an older scabber but had only gotten a small bruise across his cheek. He climbed in through the fire escape forgetting there would be someone in the bunkroom.  
  
"What happened to you?" Hotshot asked laughing.  
  
"Jus' a little fight." He rubbed a hand across his cheek and found blood on it when he pulled away, "Damn."  
  
Hotshot wet a cloth in the sink and pressed it against his cheek, "Hold it there 'til the bleeding stops."  
  
He looked at her as she sat down. From the way she mover you could tell she was still sore and in a good deal of pain, but she also seemed very bored. "Long day?"  
  
"There is nothing to do around here by yourself and I hurt too much to go anywhere outside of this room."  
  
"The docta's comin' at the end of the week," Kid Blink smiled, "What you gonna do then."  
  
"Considerin' I'll still be confined ta this place for another week I'll practice fighting up on the roof an' stuff."  
  
"Practice fighting?"  
  
"In Brooklyn there are fights almost every day. We practice to be prepared. The only reason I couldn't get away from the Delancy brudahs is 'cause I ain't practiced since I got here."  
  
"An' all those bruises prove how badly you need the practice," Spot entered their conversation. He patted her shoulder, "Sleep well?"  
  
"Yeah, no help from you." She smiled at him after the sarcastic remark.  
  
Kid Blink took the cloth away from his face and ran his fingers over the scab as he watched the two banter. 'They has to a been datin' at one time.' He thought to himself. There was a strong relationship between them, but he could also see the stronger one growing between Hotshot and Specs.  
  
The others started arriving back at the lodging hours after six that evening. Jack and David came back not only with Les, but Sarah as well. When Specs came back her still had a few papers under his arm that he had been unable to sell. Hotshot took one off of the pile and read it as everyone else filed in. Race and Crutchy were the last to arrive back. Race came strolling in happier than ever because he'd actually won a race.  
  
"Two to one, Cowboy can beat Race to death 'fore someone can make him shut up!" Hotshot called out.  
  
Replies of, "Bum odds!" echoed from all corners of the room.  
  
Insulted Racetrack shut his mouth with a snap, which sent a round of laughter through the room.  
  
The twenty or so boys settled on beds around the room. Hotshot sat on hers with Spot leaning against the frame and Specs sitting at the other end of the bunk. Jack and Race were seated across from her, with Kid Blink above them, and David's family seated in old chairs. The rest of the group sat on bunks close enough to hear what was going on.  
  
"Well Hotshot," Jack said, "You were going to tell us about what happened in you's past, an' why you's tryin' ta stay away from you's family."  
  
She took a deep breath and looked at Spot who whispered, "Take your time."  
  
"First of all my real name is Brooke Maria Lynn…"  
  
*~*~*Flashback*~*~* 


	6. Flashback

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 6  
  
By Megan  
  
The young woman sat upon the large boat sailing for America. Her controlling parents and society were what caused her to run away. They were to reach New York harbor any day and she would be glad to get off of the boat. She was the only unmarried woman who was old enough for young men to find attractive. Many American sailors seemed to like her slim figure, tan skin, and chocolate brown hair. Her Spanish accent added to their intrigue. She smiled happily for the first time in days seeing the statue of liberty in the distance.  
  
After getting past the immigration officials she walked the streets looking for somewhere to stay. Many of the boarding houses were full and there weren't many job offers. When, at dusk, she still hadn't found a job she stretched out to sleep on a bench.  
  
"Extry! Extry!" a mans cries woke her the next morning. She pushed herself up and looked around. About a dozen young men were running around the streets begging people to buy papers. "Good Morning, Miss," One of them stood in front of her, "Would you like to buy a paper." She looked up to see that he was older than many of the others and probably around her age. His light brown hair glistened in the sun and his blue eyes sparkled.  
  
She smiled; this man was more attractive than her fiancé. She cleared her throat, "How much are they?"  
  
"A penny a pape." His smile matched hers.  
  
The woman then remembered the limited supply of money she had, "I don't think I can afford it."  
  
"Are you looking for a job?"  
  
She looked at him, "At the moment yes, I'm new in New York."  
  
"You ever done sewing before?" he asked, "My mother happens to be looking for some help in her shop."  
  
"I love sewing. Do you think she'd hire someone so young?"  
  
He laughed, "You'd be one of the oldest there. I'll walk there with you if you like."  
  
The two of them began to walk down the street. "Do you have a name?" she asked.  
  
"Brains," he said as he sold a few papers to some gentlemen.  
  
"Surely that's not the name your mother gave you," she laughed.  
  
"No," he agreed, "She named me Christian. She usually calls me Chris. My newsie name is Brains because I have an education." He sold his last paper to an elderly woman as they neared the small shop. "So what about you, what's your name?"  
  
"Maria," she said, "I just got here from Spain yesterday."  
  
"And how old are you?"  
  
She looked at him oddly as he reached for the door, "Eighteen, and you?"  
  
"Nineteen," he looked at a woman in her mid thirties, "Mother, this is Maria, she just got here from Spain. She needs a job and somewhere to stay."  
  
"It's nice to meet you. Why don't you come in back and show me what you can do?" Maria followed Christian's mother into the back room smiling at him over her shoulder. By that night she had a job at Mrs. Lynn's small dress shop and a room in their mansion. Mr. Lynn ran a large company that had four stores in New York alone. Mrs. Lynn just had a dress shop for fun.  
  
Over the next few months Maria adjusted to her life in America. Christian's family was very kind to her and she fit in very well at the shop. To add to everything she got to see Christian every day. He usually stopped by the store after all of his papers were sold.  
  
Eventually a romance grew between them. Even after Maria told him why she had run from her family he still loved her. A little more than a year after she had arrived in the states they were married. Within a year Maria had a son, whom they named Andres after Maria's brother, and three years later a daughter named Brooke, named after the city her family lived in. By this time Christian's father had retired and he had taken over the company. They had homes in both Brooklyn and Manhattan.  
  
Two years after Brooke's birth Christian's father died of a heart attack, and his mother of a stroke two months later. When Andres was eight and Brooke was five her parents had their final children, twins. A boy named Aaron and a girl named Selina. All of the children would sit around every night listening to his stories of when Christian was a Brooklyn newsie. "Don't you go putting ideas in these children's heads." His wife often warned him, "I don't want any of them to run off and become newsies."  
  
The family was shaken again a few years later when Christian was charged with murder. The authorities believed that he had killed another man because someone had seen the man leave their house hours before he was killed. Brooke had been the only one home when the man was there and since she was only six-and-a-half she did not understand most of what was asked in court. Her father was sentenced to life in prison and dragged off to the state penitentiary.  
  
Maria overcome with grief turned to one of her husbands' business associates. He seemed to be the only one who could help her and eventually they were married.  
  
* * *  
  
Brooke hated her life after her father left. Though the man her mother dated treated them all warmly he couldn't replace her father. Andres felt the same way and often threatened to become a newsie. Aaron and Selina were too young to remember much of their father so they treated him like he was their father. When their mother married Jonathan the twins accepted him right away. After they had been married about a month his actions toward the rest of the family started to change. He would hit their mother if dinner were not ready when he got home and for other stupid reason. He never did this when the younger children were around. Immediately after he would apologize and she would accept his apology.  
  
Andres and Brooke got the worst of his temper. Andres was going through a rebellious stage and Brooke just highly disliked him, especially after they figured out what happened to their mother. Andres often ran away and began to spend time with a group of Brooklyn newsies. The bulls would bring him home after a day or two. He would only get a stern talking to when their mother was in the room. After she left Jonathan would whip Andres with a pieces of rope. He punished Brooke when she said something disrespectful by sending her to her room. One night when she spoke out at one of his dinner parties he grounded her for a week.  
  
Andres sat on her windowsill two nights later. He was visiting from his current 'escape' to the newsies headquarters. "What'd you do this time?" he asked  
  
"Me," she looked at him pretending to be insulted. "I mumbled something about him at dinner. No one heard except him. Then I accidentally knocked over his glass and spilled water on him. Now I'm grounded for a week. What's his problem?"  
  
"He's a tight wad, that's what his problem is," Andres hissed a few choice adjectives about their stepfather. "So you wanna get out of here for a few days?"  
  
She looked up, "You mean go be a newsie with you?" Out of her and her brother she had wanted to be a newsie more when her father told them his many stories. "Of course, but won't they mind that I'm a girl?"  
  
"Not if Spot says you's ok. He may be a new leada in training but no one messes wit' 'im." Andre said, "Change and pack light. I'll be back in an hour. Be sure to leave mom a note in Spanish, and use your accent." With that he was gone and she was left alone to pack.  
  
She changed into some of Andres' old clothes and packed an extra set. She had just finished writing a note and was adjusting his old newsie hat to cover her hair when he got back.  
  
"I barely recognized you." He said. After that he was silent and helped her climb out the window and down the tree. She ran as fast as possible to keep up with him in the streets. He ran far away from all of the mansions and shops and down to the harbor. There he was greeted by another newsie and explained the situation. "Is Spot still up?"  
  
"Yeah, but he ain't gonna be to glad you missed curfew." The older newsie claimed.  
  
"Where is he, it's important?"  
  
"The loft."  
  
"C'mon," Andres grabbed her roughly by the collar and pulled her along behind him. He climbed up a ladder inside the one of the buildings. Brooke barely stopped to look at the groups of boys playing poker and other games in small groups. At the top he gave her an order. "Stay in the shadows 'til I tell you to come out." With that he stood and walked over to where another boy was sitting atop a crate. "Hey Spot."  
  
"You's missed curfew BlackJack," he said.  
  
"I had important business," he said, "I'se gots a new newsie for you." He turned and motioned for her to come over. She walked out of the shadows and over to her brother. He took the hat off of her head, revealing that she was a girl. Spot raised an eyebrow but said nothing.  
  
'He can't be much older than me' Brooke thought to herself.  
  
"Who is she?" Spot asked. His eyes like two pieces of ice cutting onto her.  
  
"This is my sister. I had to get her out of the house."  
  
"What exactly does your old man do to you?" Spot turned to Andres who responded with silence. He turned back to Brooke, "What's your name kid?"  
  
"Brooke Lynn." She said.  
  
"No kid, I'se Brooklyn."  
  
"Spot, her name is Brooke. Our fathers last name was Lynn."  
  
"She don't got a newsie name." He seemed surprised.  
  
"I been tryin to think a one but nuthin' fits. I call her En Brooklyn, but that ain't a good newsie name."  
  
"What's it mean?"  
  
"In Brooklyn." Andres looked around absently, "Maybe you could think a one tomorrow."  
  
"Can she shoot?" Before Andres or Black Jack as he was known here could answer Spot pulled out a slingshot. "Can you shoot this?"  
  
"Yes," she matched his tone. Her brother tapped her shoulder warning her not to get smart with him.  
  
Spot placed the slingshot in her palm and placed three bottles on the rafters, "Show me." He showed her where to back up to and gave her three marbles. She took aim and hit each one perfectly, thankful for the practice with her brother's.  
  
"What about cards?"  
  
"She's the only one who can beat me at Blackjack occasionally and she beats me at poker all the time."  
  
"Alright, she can stay. We'll think of a name tomorrow." He looked her in the eye and she met his gaze to which most others would look away from. "Welcome to the newsies Brooke." He spit in his palm and held out his hand.  
  
Brooke knew most girls her age were disgusted when boys did that but it didn't bother her at all. She spit in her hand and shook his. Andres got her settled in one of the extra bunks and they both fell asleep.  
  
The next morning Spot wake her up at five am. Most of the other boys were getting up by themselves. When she was ready he led her outside to a group of older boys. BlackJack followed closely behind them.  
  
"Rebel," he addressed the head newsie, "This is Black Jack's sister Brooke. She's joinin' the newsies."  
  
Rebel looked at the younger newsie. Spot was younger than him but he would be taking over soon. He may have looked young and scrawny but he was a hard fighter. "Can she shoot?"  
  
Spot answered by explaining the previous night events and adding the answers of other questions he knew his friend would ask, "She can shoot, and beat Black Jack at his game and poker, an' I dunno if she can fight.  
  
"Bet she can't fight. She's a goil," an older newsie said, "Beat it shrimp." He reached forward to push her back but she was quicker and gave him a black eye.  
  
"Back off Hotshot," Spot said, "Stop showin' off."  
  
"Let her alone Mitchell," Rebel warned her attacker. "She's got a name so I guess she's a newsie now." He said.  
  
"She's got a name?" Spot was confused.  
  
"You named her yourself, Hotshot," Rebel said nodding, "I think it'll fit."  
  
With that Spot, Black Jack, Hotshot and a few other newsies walked off the pier to start a day of selling papers. Hotshot glanced over her shoulder to see Mitchell glaring after her. The boy looked around Spot's age but seemed meaner. Through the newsies she learned tricks for selling papers and was a natural at it. They would get their papers everyday and sell most of them by early afternoon. When they were done the group would go to the local restaurant, Calvin's.  
  
One day when they were sitting at a booth near the door a group of cops came in. Spot pushed Hotshot and Black Jack toward the door, but it was too late. The bulls had seen them. They ran down the street but were caught when two bulls tackled Andres and one grabbed Brooke's arm.  
  
After their mother saw they were home safely Jonathan brought them to his office. Brooke stood outside while he lectured and hit her older brother. She was called in after Andres ran up to his room. Jonathan gave her his lecture on how what she had done was wrong and that she would never do it again. The entire time he spoke she gave him the blank stare Spot had taught her on her second night. When Jonathan finally looked at her he slapped her across the face. Her cheek felt as though it was on fire but she would not allow herself to cry out.  
  
Over the next three years Andres and Brooke continued to run away. They could handle being punished when they deserved it but their stepfather punished them just to keep people from seeing them, and other unfair reasons. Whenever they ran away they'd spend their time in the Brooklyn newsies boarding house. Andres would often leave and tell his sister to meet him at the pier in a few days. Sometimes she would leave before him. Thankfully the two had a friend like Spot who always had an open bunk for them. The tricks each of them picked up were very useful when selling, as well as at home. There were some rules that had to be followed while with the newsies. While Andres could walk around by himself all day Brooke had to stay with someone at all times. This was to keep the bulls from catching her, as Rebel said, but was also because she was a girl. The bulls, however, never failed to catch them after a few days. The longest they ever stayed away was two weeks.  
  
Their punishments at home also worsened. Andres was still whipped and Jonathan would scream at him. Brooke's punishment elevated from being slapped to being kicked, beaten, and eventually Jonathan began to use the whip on her. She still gave her glare and took her punishment silently which seemed to unnerve him. The few times the two told their mother what was happening she didn't believe them. Even the marks across their backs from his whip were not proof enough.  
  
One night on the way back from a show the carriage the family was riding in tipped over when the horses spooked. All six of the passengers flew off in different directions. Brooke's head came in contact with the hard cobble stone street. Everything went black.  
  
Days later the twelve-year-old girl woke up in the hospital. Jonathan's brother, the owner of one of New York's best newspapers, was sitting next to her bed. (It's one of the guys in the movie but I'm not gonna tell you which. Does anyone think Hearst looks like that Grissom guy from CSI???) He informed her that her mother and the six-year-old twins had been killed in the accident. Fifteen-year-old Andres and Jonathan were in critical condition. When she was brought back to his mansion to recover he kept her in her room for close to a week. When she was allowed out again no one would tell her anything about Andres and Jonathan so she assumed they were dead.  
  
In her uncle's mansion things were as bad as before. Though he did not punish her she was not allowed outside without a maid or servant. She was also not allowed to talk to anyone on the street. The only good thing about the house was how kind the servants were. Since she was kind to them they were much more willing to listen. Brooke's maid, Rosa, was a Hispanic woman in her mid-twenties. She was surprised and happy to learn that Brooke spoke Spanish fluently. Brooke's uncle, however, did not allow her to speak Spanish to anyone other than servants. If she did she was grounded for a week. When Brooke finally needed to get away from her uncle's control she begged Rosa to take her to the store. Using her money (she inherited her parents fortune and her uncle took control of Jonathan's company) she bought two worn pairs of pants, a few shirts, kerchiefs, a hat, boots, and other articles of clothing.  
  
During her uncles next card game the owners of The Sun, The World, The Times, The Gazette, etc (the ones from the movie) were all there. She politely asked to join their card game to which her uncle refused. When she mumbled something in Spanish he had one of the servants bring her to her room. That evening she wrote Rosa a note in Spanish explaining her actions. She packed all that she would need to bring with her after changing her clothes. Like Andres had taught her she climbed out a window and to the ground using a tree.  
  
She ran the entire way to the pier where a few boys playing poker and talking were the only ones still outside. Most of them looked up as she passed. She walked into the lodging building on the end of the pier, and climbed the ladder to the loft. When she emerged from the shadows Spot dropped the cards he was holding, revealing what would have been the winning hand to the round of poker he was playing with Rebel, Lockpick, Swinger, and Roman.  
  
"Hotshot," he said, "It's about time you two got back here. We ain't heard from either of you in almos' six months. We checked you's house a few times but nobody was there. Where's your brutha?" He looked past her trying to see Black Jack in the shadows.  
  
Hotshot shook her head indicating that he wasn't there. She held a hand to her face trying to wipe the tears off.  
  
Spot looked at Rebel for permission to leave. Rebel nodded and Spot jumped up. He walked over to Hotshot and led her downstairs. "What happened?" he asked sitting her on his bunk.  
  
"Jonathan, our stepfather, took us all to a show for Mama's birthday. On the way back the carriage crashed when the horses spooked. I've been stayin' wit' my uncle. Mama, Selina, Aaron, Jonathan, they're all dead."  
  
"Black Jack?"  
  
She nodded pressing her hands to her face. "Spot we really needs ta talk. Remember when you wanted to know why I was comin' wit' my brutha?"  
  
Spot nodded, "We all know sumthin' was goin' on but he neva told us what."  
  
Hotshot launched into the stories about Jonathan beating their mother, his punishments for them and more. When she was done Spot urged her to go to bed before running upstairs to tell Rebel.  
  
The next morning Spot dragged her out to Rebel's post after she'd woken up. "Does your uncle hit you too?" Rebel was to the point when he spoke.  
  
"No," she said, "He knows I can press charges against him."  
  
"Good, just remember that you're welcome here all the time."  
  
Spot and Hotshot walked to the distribution office and bought their papers. They were some of the first newsies there so they sold them fairly quickly. Spot dragged her to a store to buy some marbles and a slingshot for Hotshot. On the way there they passed Scruff and Wiser who were selling papers on a street corner. After they'd bought everything the walked back to the pier. An hour later Hotshot was playing a game of poker with a few other newsies when Scruff showed up with another newsie. The newsie with him was taller and unfamiliar to Hotshot but Spot seemed to know him. She stayed back, not really concerned about getting to meet him. If Spot thought it was important he'd introduce them. Wiser came trotting onto the pier almost half an hour later. The unfamiliar newsie started yelling at him about losing Specs. Hotshot watched them confused. Who's spectacles did Wiser lose. He was wearing his around his neck. Spot looked at her, Roman, and Swinger and ran over after speaking to Rebel.  
  
"We's got a bit of a situation. We'll be back in a few hours at the most. Stay here." He said before turning and running off.  
  
"Alright gentlemen," Hotshot said not really caring, "How much money you got wit' you?"  
  
A large group of the newsies that left with Spot, Rebel, and the other newsie came back about an hour later. Spot and Rebel got back after curfew. Normally Hotshot would have given him crap about being late like he did to the others when they were, but he looked tired and upset so she just walked with him. "What happened?"  
  
"That newsie that came wit' Scruff," Spot said taking out a cigarette and lighting it, "He's my friend Jack from Manhattan. He had a new newsie with him named Specs. Jack and Scruff came here to find me while Wiser and Specs checked the store. Specs got lost on the way back and Mitchell's group found him."  
  
"Mitchell's group?"  
  
"You remember Mitchell. He and some of the other newsies were mad 'bout me bein' leader after Rebel leaves next year so they left and started their own group. Anyway they found Specs and beat him up real bad. Scorpion had to carry him back to Manhattan."  
  
"Poor guy."  
  
"Yeah," he threw the cigarette into the water and nodded, "Let's go to bed."  
  
A few days later Brooke was caught and dragged home. Her uncle was furious just as Jonathan had always been. He didn't beat her but looked like he wanted to. She was, of course, grounded and only talked to Rosa for a week.  
  
Over the next year she continued running away from home to stay with Spot and the newsies. Sometimes the bulls brought her back, but there were also times when she came back on her own. One day when she was thirteen her uncle called her to his office.  
  
"Michel Taylor's son Benjamin quite fancies you." He said.  
  
"Well I can't say I feel the same." She scoffed. Benjamin was one of the boys who acted like he thought he was God's gift to women. Not only did Brooke find him boring he was also extremely rude. He'd run into her when she was with the newsies once and he had insulted Spot. Most girls were dying to at least go out with him except Brooke. Obviously that just made her more of a target.  
  
"Benjamin has asked for you to marry him," her uncle said, "I have accepted because it would mean the joining of you father's company and his. It will ensures you a luxurious life."  
  
"Marry him!? I'm only thirteen!"  
  
"You wont marry until you're at a reasonable age; Seventeen at least. As I told you your father's company and his-"  
  
"More money to go in you pocket."  
  
"Young lady, you will show me respect. I have taken you in after your parents' death and this is the thanks I get."  
  
"Sure you took me in. You lock me in this house twenty- four hours a day, won't let me talk to anybody, And then of course you get all the money my father's company makes. You want me to keep goin' Old Man 'cause there's plenty more I can say!"  
  
He slapped her across the face, "This is the end of our discussion. You will marry Benjamin when you are seventeen, and until then you and him shall go out when he wishes. Right now you will go to your room and stay there.  
  
Though her face was red and swelling slightly she kept a calm face as she turned and walked from the room. Rosa was waiting in her room, "You cannot leave again." She said.  
  
"Well I sure as hell can't stay here, Rosa," she snapped. She looked over at her maid, "I'll write I promise but I can't stay here and be put through this anymore. I've had enough. Spot'll take me in I know he will." She hadn't seen him in over two months but had heard that he had taken over Rebel's position as leader. "Get out of here so you can't say you knew something." When Rosa had left she packed everything that was important to her: a journal, a book, her glasses, and all of her newsie clothes. The last thing she did was put on a necklace. On it hung a key that her father had given her. It was to all the rooms in both of the family's houses. It also opened a box that belonged to her father, which she knew was in his office in their Manhattan home. Spot had a similar one that opened a lock somewhere in Brooklyn.  
  
After scrawling Rosa her normal note she climbed out the window. It was later at night so the dark hid her. Rain added to the emptiness of the street and the thunder and lightning ensured that no children would be outside. She ran through the streets slipping a few times on wet stones. She reached the dock to find newsies standing guard as normal.  
  
"What do you's think you're doin'?" one asked stopping her as she tried to pass him.  
  
"Going to see Spot." She said pushing past him. Others began to block her way. Mitchell must be sending attackers to get Spot she realized. Obviously in the dark they did not recognize her, their loss. She lashed out at anyone who got in her way. When she got inside she climbed to the loft, which was dark. An arm shot around her neck and the cold metal blade of a knife was pressed against her throat.  
  
"Who sent you an' whatta you want?" Spot's voice hissed in her ear.  
  
She froze, the knife was no joke, and waited for him to ease up. When he didn't she spoke. "Spot it's me."  
  
He dropped the knife turned her around. "I need to stay here Spot," She said, "Permanently." She launched into her story as he lit a lantern. When she was done he looked at her. "You's gotta cut your hair if ya don' want 'em to recognize you."  
  
She handed him the knife, "Then do it."  
  
With regret he cut most of her hair off and left her with a typical newsie haircut. He helped her carry her things downstairs to her bunk.  
  
Thanks Spot," she said laying down.  
  
"No problem," he kissed her before leaving. She looked after him amazed at his actions.  
  
She thought Spot would let her rest for a few days but he didn't. When she said she was going to stay permanently it meant she would be treated the same as the others. He was in her room at five am. "Hotshot, get up. It's time to go sell papes."  
  
She swatted at him to make him go away and ignored any threats he made. She was tired and only wanted more sleep.  
  
"Alright, I warned you." She didn't feel him pick her up. The next thing she knew she'd hit the ice cold water in the harbor. She surfaced gasping and began cursing at Spot in English and Spanish. "I warned you," he told her, "Now you'll know to get up. Hurry an' get ready. We's leavin' in ten minutes." She splashed him as he walked away and pulled herself out of the water. She did however learn a lesson and was soon up before Spot needed to wake her.  
  
The bulls didn't recognize her in the streets. As a result she was able to live in Brooklyn and not worry about them. Every few months they'd come around looking for her but they never figured it out. Until now her uncle hadn't asked for such an intense search. Why did he want her back so much now?  
  
Over the four years her and Spot's relationship grew. After the kiss they'd started spending time together after selling papers. When time came for Spot to elect newsies for positions and he chose her some of the newsies became angry. They thought it was only because they were dating. Hotshot had fought any of them who wanted her to prove herself badly enough. Even without Spot, before everyone knew about them, she had earned her own reputation. Right before she had been sent away her and Spot's relationship had begun to cool down a little but they were still good friends, only closer, like siblings, now.  
  
And this landed her at present times…  
  
*~*~*End Flashback*~*~*  
  
Hotshot's cheeks were damp with tears.  
  
"Tell 'em who you's uncle is Brooke," Spot whispered. He was sitting next to her with an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"No Spot, I can't do that, I can't."  
  
Spot looked at Jack, who nodded, "Alright Brooke I won't make you talk about it wit' everyone. Please jus' tell Jack."  
  
"Damn it, Spot," she stood up, "I can't talk about it with anyone so back off!"  
  
Specs stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as he brought her back to the bed. It was long past lights out so Jack blew out the lamp. Spot moved to a bed on the opposite side of the room knowing she was mad. Specs waited for her to fall asleep before climbing into his own bed.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I hope the story is starting to make sense to everyone who's reading it. What do you think so far, and do you have any suggestions. If you do review tell me what you think honestly. I promise another chapter as soon as possible. You can count on a few more before I take a break to study for finals. After school ends I'll probably add chapters faster and post some new stories. Until then, Enjoy!!! 


	7. Recovery

Past Secrets And Present Times  
  
Chapter 7  
  
By Megan  
  
The next morning Hotshot woke up to find the bunkroom completely quiet. Everyone had left for the day except one. He was packing to go home. Hotshot watched Spot put on his shirt and pull on his suspenders over it. He glanced at her and sighed, not noticing she was awake. He started to walk toward the door but she reached out and grabbed him as he passed her bunk.  
  
Spot looked down at the hand that grabbed his arm. "Do you gotta leave taday?" she asked him.  
  
He smiled down at her, "Yeah, Lockpick can't handle them for more than a week on his own. If it was him here and you there I'd stay longer but…" he trailed off. When he looked at her again he laughed, "I ain't never seen you in bed so much."  
  
"Well don't get used to it. I'll be up and sellin' in a week and a half." She said, "I'll miss ya."  
  
"Miss you too," he leaned down and hugged her as she sat up. He leaned back and looked her in the eye, "Be good." As a smile appeared on her lips he kissed her. "See ya later." He turned and ran out of the room.  
  
Hotshot stared after him shocked for a few minutes. He'd kissed her like Specs kissed her when they were going different places and only had a second. It was like the times Spot had kissed her when they only had a few minutes together on the pier or streets. She realized he still had feelings for her. And he knew she was dating Specs. They had never officially broken up. "Agh!" she fell back against the mattress.  
  
The rest of the week she spent her time laying around in bed and recovering from her injuries. She would get dressed and walk around the room a few times but she wasn't allowed to leave. She did a few easy exercises so she'd be able to fight when she got back out.  
  
The doctor came on Friday evening before everybody got back. Dutchy had come back early and was the only one there. The doctor examined her injuries and proclaimed that she should not sell for another week. She could start to get out of bed and walk around, but nothing strenuous. To this Dutchy rolled his eyes. He'd seen her jogging around the room and doing push ups, and curl ups the day before. They'd all seen her doing things she shouldn't have. The doctor told Kloppman to send her out after a week if he thought she was ready. Even if Kloppman told her to stay she'd be out on Saturday.  
  
True to her promise of working on her fighting she was up on the roof the next morning after the guys had all left. She tried with smaller exercises but after a few hours had worked out an intricate sequence of kicks and punches.  
  
* * *  
  
Kid Blink came back from selling early on Saturday. Everyone knew Hotshot was anxious for them to leave that morning and he wanted to know why. He climbed the fire escape and peeked in the bunkroom window. No one was there. "Oh shit, she went out," he said to himself, "Jack's gonna kill her."  
  
It was then that he heard a string of words that he didn't understand coming from the roof. He climbed further up the ladder and peeked over the edge of the roof. Hotshot was attacking an invisible enemy, and, had he been alive, he wouldn't stand a chance. It was amazing. He knew Brooklyn newsies were good fighters but he couldn't picture any of them doing this.  
  
He laughed to himself as she fell after a move and yelled, "Verdomme!" The Dutch term for damn was very popular among the newsies thanks to Dutchy.  
  
She jumped back up and started a punching sequence speaking, "Uno… Dos… Tres…" After saying "Diez" she jumped off the ground and swung her foot around.  
  
"Wow!"  
  
* * *  
  
Hotshot looked over at the edge when she heard the voice. "Hey Kid," she smiled and collapsed at the edge near him, glad for a break.  
  
"Where did you learn to do that?" the look on his face was plainly amazed.  
  
"Brooklyn."  
  
A laugh erupted from his mouth, "You mean the big guys from Brooklyn do that."  
  
She laughed with him picturing Roman trying to do the combination she had completed. "No, we all learn how to use a slingshot, and street fighting. The bigger guys learn boxing, and wrestling. The smaller kids aren't real good at it, except Spot and a few others so Spot taught us this stuff. Some Asian kid was in the newsies during Rebel's time and taught him. It's called karate." She took a long drink from the glass of water on the ground.  
  
"Can you teach me?"  
  
"Sure, but I am not teaching everyone. If you tell anyone no more than like ten."  
  
"Ok," he sat to make a mental list, "That's you, me, Jack, Race, David, Specs, Dutchy, Skittery, Boots, Snipeshooter, Mush and Les. That's ten."  
  
"Alright, if anyone else wants to learn you can teach them after. Tell them every afternoon this week. It's the only time I'm teaching."  
  
"Eager to get out of here again."  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
He stood up and they began to practice. She only took him through a few simple exercises since there would be more people the next day. As Kid had promised the group was larger the next day. Everyone who was not learning was sitting against the far wall watching. She started with the simple moves. Normal kicks and punches, and moved into the more difficult combinations. By the third day everyone on the roof was standing and practicing. Hotshot even took time to think of a few moves for Crutchy.  
  
On Thursday she gave them each a type of exam and told them she was done and wanted Friday off before she went back out. She hadn't taught them as much as she had learned, just enough to keep them out of trouble.  
  
On Friday she woke up and watched them leave. Then she got dressed and walked up to the roof finding it more peaceful because no one was there. She went through a few simple exercises before going back to the bunkroom. As she reached the door she heard Kloppman's voice downstairs.  
  
"We don't house any girls here Mista."  
  
Another voice responded, "Well the doctor said he treated Miss Brooke Lynn in this lodging house. Her uncle wants her returned to him so I am here to get her."  
  
"An' I tell you again, there are no girls in this lodging house."  
  
"Then you won't mind if I look upstairs,"  
  
Hotshot dashed into the bunkroom as his foot hit the bottom step. She jumped out the window and climbed quickly down the fire escape. She peeked around the front corner to see a few more detectives out front. Her hat was over her hair but they could still recognize her. She turned and ran through the alleys to get away. As she passed the corner of a building a few blocks away the adrenalin was starting to wear off. She found herself dizzy and tripping over her own feet. A pair of arms grabbed her as she rounded another corner. She didn't feel like she could fight so she let the person hoist her over his shoulder. "Get her inside." a familiar voice hissed.  
  
She closed her eyes as she was carried up a few flights of stairs and dropped onto a bed, "Careful!" she snapped, keeping herself from falling off. She looked up to see Specs was the one who had carried her.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her, "Are you ok?"  
  
"Yeah, there were detectives at the lodging house."  
  
"What!?" he turned and yelled out the door, "Race you and Jack go to the lodging house and see what's going on."  
  
"Tell 'em I went to Queens" she said sitting up.  
  
"If they ask, Hotshot went to Queens an' she stayed wit' us for a day." He turned back to her, "You alright."  
  
"Bien, y tu?"  
  
"Latin hun."  
  
She threw one of the pillows from the bed at him. I'm fine, where are we?"  
  
"Medda's, an' you's should get used to it. Jack'll probably have you here for a few nights even if you sell." He sat next to her on the bed.  
  
She smiled, "You wanna stay?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
She pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. If Spot still liked her she'd deal with it later. Specs only pulled back when Race and Jack came into the room. Jack grabbed Race's arm and covered his friend's eyes, "Virgin eyes 'ere you's two."  
  
Race swatted Jacks arms off, "Please Cowboy, why do you think I stopped hangin' 'round you and Sarah."  
  
Hotshot opened her mouth with a comment ready and then closed it muttering, "Too easy." She then turned to Jack, "So what's up?"  
  
"The doctor tipped off the bulls an' they believed the story that you went to Queens. However, you should stay here for a few extra days to make sure they ain't lookin' for you no more."  
  
"But Jack, I'se been inside for two weeks. You can't keep me locked up for another."  
  
"Tell you what," he smiled, "Stay here for tomorrow and you can go out the day after. But you can't come back until Monday night at least."  
  
"That sounds fair." She smiled at his deal.  
  
"I'll go tell Medda we's here" Race smiled walking out the door.  
  
Medda followed him into the room several minutes later shaking her head, "Can't you all ever stay out of trouble. Last month it was the strike. This month you're all being chased by the bulls." The smile on her face showed she was joking.  
  
Jack stood up and kissed the older woman's hand, "Thanks Medda, we owe you."  
  
"Which one of you is staying here?" Obviously Race hadn't told her all the details.  
  
"Hotshot," Jack said, "She ain't allowed to go out tomorrow." For this he received a look from her, "But on Sunday and Monday she can go. If she needs to stay any longer I'll talk to you before then."  
  
After another hour of conversation between the occupants of the room the boys went back to the boarding house. Hotshot was sad to see Specs go but Jack was convinced that if not all of them returned it would look suspicious. And Specs had promised to visit the next day so it would work.  
  
"So do you want me to put you to work tomorrow?" Medda asked.  
  
"Hell yes, I haven't done anything productive since I got hurt!"  
  
Medda smiled at the young girls eagerness to exceed. She reminded Medda of herself at that age, but Medda was sure that performing would not dominate this girl's future. She was going to be different; you could tell by looking at her.  
  
"Alright, I'll see what we have for you to do around here. We're all having dinner in about an hour. Have a look around, I'll send someone to find you."  
  
After she left Hotshot began her tour of the theater. She walked around backstage and the other rooms. When one of the actors yelled to her that dinner was ready she followed him to the kitchen. Medda was waiting with a few young men standing behind her.  
  
"Hotshot, Specs told me you speak Spanish. Is it true?"  
  
"Yeah," she nodded.  
  
"This is Miguel, Pedro, and Martin. They need another singer to help them tomorrow. Their fourth member is sick.  
  
Miguel stepped forward, "Puede ayuda, por favor? (Can you help, please?)"  
  
"Si, senores. (Yes sirs.)" She said back, "Es un honor. (It is an honor.)"  
  
The three boys smiled at her ability to speak fluently.  
  
Pedro spoke next in his broken English. "Here are the lyrics of the song." He handed her a piece of paper with words written neatly across it.  
  
"I'll know them by tomorrow she said. While they ate Martin pointed out the lines she needed to sing.  
  
Later that night she was sitting in her bed humming the lines to herself. She wished she were back at the lodging house playing poker with Racetrack. As if to answer her prayers a face appeared at the window. Specs smiled at her as she opened it to let him in. "I come bearing gifts." He said throwing a deck of cards onto the bed.  
  
A smile grew on her face as well, "Perfect. Sit down."  
  
He took a seat across from her on the bed with her watching him the entire time. As she began to shuffle the cards she spoke, "How much money ya got on ya." Her smile and tone would have been enough to send many running home, knowing they'd have a lot less when they left. He only pulled some change out of his pocket and muttered quietly.  
  
"I might as well just give you this now."  
  
She laughed as she dealt the cards. They played for almost two hours before they realized Specs had been there so long. Medda came in to say goodnight and opened the door to find Specs claiming that she had cheated.  
  
"What is this!?" she asked.  
  
"Uh, hi Medda," Specs started turning around, "I jus' came over ta play some poker with Hotshot." When she only sent him a well-known look he stood up, "I'll see you tomorrow." With that he climbed back out the window.  
  
Medda sat on Hotshot's bed, "While you are here the rule is no boys after nine, unless you're somewhere were others can see you. The two of you can play cards in the kitchen if you want but if you play in here some people get the wrong idea. And he has to be out by ten. All the boys from the lodging house know that rule."  
  
"Sorry, we lost track of time," Hotshot apologized without backing down, as Spot had taught her. She was sorry it had happened but wasn't willing to say she was wrong. "What about girls? Can I have Sarah over?"  
  
"Sarah Jacobs? Of course, that girl is a pleasure. She can stay as long as she's out by ten. If that rule applies for her brother then it applies for her as well." Medda looked at her, "Goodnight."  
  
"Night," she replied as Medda closed the door. It was funny, Medda reminded her of her mother. She had had a few boyfriends before her mother's death and Maria had always insisted that they left early. Now that she realized some of the reasons she laughed; she'd been twelve at the time and wouldn't have done most of them. Well that was a long time ago. No use dwelling on it now.  
  
The next morning she was one of the first ones up. She quickly dressed and climbed out onto the fire escape. She was tempted to climb down and go sell papes but the threat of being returned to her uncle was far worse than the thought of staying inside for another day. She watched as some of her friends began walking down the streets yelling wonderfully familiar, and often false, headlines. A few of them looked up at her and nodded in recognition. Had they waved they would have given her away.  
  
When Medda came in to get the young girl up she found her climbing back in the window dressed for the day and wide-awake. She was singing the Spanish song to herself, still working on memorizing the lines. "When do I have to perform this wit' 'em?" she acknowledged the older woman.  
  
"They're going on around five," Medda said, "Until then I don't care where you go as long as it's not outside, and stay out of the seating area."  
  
"What about the fire escape?"  
  
"That or the roof is fine just don't get yourself caught or flirt with the guys," she stopped for a second trying to remember why she'd come upstairs, "Ah yes, would you like some breakfast?"  
  
Hotshot looked at the older woman wide-eyed for a moment. When she'd become a newsie in Brooklyn she'd had to get used to the fact that no one ate breakfast and their other meals were small. She'd been so used to eating breakfast with her family each morning that it seemed strange. Now she could go days without eating a meal. Just another reminder of how much things had changed.  
  
"Hotshot?"  
  
Medda's voice broke her out of her trance, "Ahh, no. I'm not really hungry, but I'll come downstairs."  
  
She walked downstairs with Medda. Everyone was seated around a large table in the kitchen. As Medda took her seat and began to say grace Hotshot stayed in the doorway. She felt even more like an outsider, and remembered this happening when her family had been together. She took a small piece of bread from the counter and walked to the back stairs. She sat there watching the newsies in the street through an open window.  
  
A laugh behind her scared her out of her daydreaming. "You look like someone took away your reason for living."  
  
"Just about," she said, "Jack told you what I told everyone, right?"  
  
"Yes he did. I'm very sorry."  
  
"Me too. Well since than basically all I've known is the newsies. It used to kill me to be without my father's stories and him. When the rest of my family and Andres got taken away the newsies became what I needed to do. After I turned seven Andres was basically all the family I had, and after he died all I had was the newsies."  
  
Medda smiled, "What do you plan on doing when you get too old to be a newsie?"  
  
"Tell my kids stories like my father told me. About their grandfather, their uncle, Spot, Jack, the strike, Specs, me, just everyone."  
  
"Good, just think. You'll be out again tomorrow." With that Medda patted her on the shoulder and walked away to get ready for her morning performance.  
  
Hotshot pulled a photo out of her pocket and sighed. It was a photo of her, Andres, and Spot. A few other newsies were standing in the background but their images were blurred. Spot stood behind them on a crate. He smiled cockily, with his cane slung over his shoulder and his hat in his back pocket letting the sun shine off his hair. He looked so cute in the picture. In front of him stood herself and her brother. Black Jack, she hadn't referred to him as Andres in years, had on his normal newsie clothes, knickers, a buttoned shirt, suspenders. In one hand he held his hat and slingshot. The other was around her shoulders. His dark hair was parted so it fell to the sides of his head, and a wide smile covered his face. It brought back memories of how girls had practically thrown themselves at him. He had been handsome back then. She'd had clothes similar to the ones she wore now. Spot's slingshot was in her hand. She only laughed remembering the fun they'd had after. Her and her brother had attacked Spot who was unarmed after the picture was taken. It was the last picture she had of him. There were others back at the lodging house too.  
  
She spent most of the morning and the early afternoon wandering around the backstage area and watching the other acts. A few newsies came in to watch Medda's show, and some visited her backstage. Miguel, Martin, and Pedro found her about half an hour before they went on to warm up. The boys' voices were beautiful. She was ready when they walked onstage.  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
A few of the newsies had come into the theater to see the show or to get out of the heat. They crowded into one of the balconies as Medda introduced a new Spanish act. Specs was the last to arrive but Jack and Dutchy knew he was coming, so they saved him a seat. As he settled into his seat the act began to come out onstage. Specs choked on a candy as Kid Blink spit out the water in his mouth. The other boys also had similar reactions.  
  
Hotshot stood onstage along with three Spanish boys as the music began. You couldn't recognize her unless you knew her. A hat still covered her hair so they didn't have to worry about anyone recognizing her, but she was onstage. Jack was somewhat pale when he first saw her but bean to relax as the first boy started to sing.  
  
Que palabras te puedo decir  
  
Que te hagan volver  
  
Tu perdida con el tiempo y yo,  
  
Sin tu querer  
  
Tantas cosas que dijiste amor  
  
Te buscando un Nuevo comenzar  
  
Y no lo supe ver  
  
Que puedo yo decir  
  
Que te hizo partir  
  
Congelado mi corazon  
  
Asi no puedo seguir  
  
Que diera porque estes junto a mi  
  
Aqui  
  
Estoy ahogandome,  
  
No te puedo olvidar (No te puedo olvidar)  
  
Y como un hombre  
  
Busco como aguantar  
  
Aluzinando me recuerdo de tu voz amor (tu voz amor)  
  
Cuando me dijiste  
  
(No), No,  
  
(No), Baby No,  
  
(No), sin piedad,  
  
Como me dolio, (No)  
  
Noooo,(No)  
  
No  
  
Y puedo darte me escusas baby  
  
Anque nada va a cambiar  
  
Pero si hay algo que debo hacer  
  
Ven y dimelo ya.  
  
Un minuto es una eternidad  
  
Asi es un dia sin ti  
  
Mas sin embargo no puedo vivir  
  
Cambiano todo por ti  
  
Por eso dejare de darle mi atencion  
  
A lo que mi corazon  
  
Porque muy dentro yo se  
  
Que tambien tu mie deseas asi,  
  
Dime que si.  
  
Yeaaahh.  
  
Estoy ahogandome, (ahogandome)  
  
No te puedo olvidar (No te puedo olvidar)  
  
Y como un hombre (Un hombre qhe no debe llorar)  
  
Busco como aguantar  
  
Aluzinando me recuerdo de tu voz amor (tu voz amor)  
  
Cuando me dijiste (me dijiste)  
  
(No), No,  
  
(No), No,  
  
(No), Ne estas,  
  
No, (No)  
  
No, (No)  
  
Hotshot took over singing lead.  
  
Yo te quiero preguntar  
  
Ahora que ya no estas  
  
Si algo sientes por mi  
  
No me dejes solo aqui  
  
Ooohhhh.  
  
Estoy ahogandome, (ahogandome)  
  
No te puedo olvidar (No te puedo olvidar)  
  
Y como un hombre  
  
Busco como aguantar (Busco como aguantar)  
  
Aluzinando me recuerdo de tu voz amor (recuerdo baby, oooh)  
  
Cuando me dijistes no (cuando me dijistes)  
  
Estoy ahogandome, (ahogandome)  
  
No te puedo olvidar (No te puedo olvidar)  
  
Y como un hombre  
  
Busco como aguantar (Busco como aguantar)  
  
Aluzinando me recuerdo de tu voz amor  
  
Cuando me dijistes no  
  
(Cuando dicistes que)  
  
No, no  
  
No,  
  
Cuando me dijistes  
  
(Nsync, Gone {Spanish version})  
  
The four singers bowed and walked offstage. A large group of newsies ran from their balcony to the backstage area at the same time. Jack ran, literally, into Medda. "Why was Hotshot onstage?" he asked picking himself up off the ground.  
  
"She wanted some work to do and the boys needed another singer because one of theirs was sick so she went in his place." Medda explained calmly, with a hand on Jacks arm, "Calm down. I announced her using the other boys name."  
  
Jack pulled a chair away from the wall and sat down. Knowing he'd take care of it the other newsies walked in different directions to talk to friends backstage. Specs found Hotshot rambling in Spanish to the boys she'd been singing with. Specs didn't understand exactly what they were saying but understood a few things since all languages come from Latin. One of the other boys pointed at him and Hotshot turned around. She smiled at him. "Hasta luego. (see you later.)" she said to her friends as she walked over to him.  
  
"You guys were great," he said wrapping an arm around her waist.  
  
She pulled away, "You guys saw that? Who?"  
  
Specs laughed, "Me, Jack, Dutchy, Race, Mush, Crutchy, David, Kid, and Skittery. We were up in the balcony."  
  
"Verdomme (if anyone knows any swears in Spanish I'd appreciate it if you sent them to me). How'd Jack take it?"  
  
"He didn't. He came running back here the second you got offstage and talked to Medda. It's all figured out though."  
  
As if on cue Jack walked into the room, "Ya know I think you need ta sell papes tomorrow," he said, "If I let you stay here you might get in more trouble."  
  
She put a hand to her chest in mock outrage, "Me, cause trouble, how dare you even suggest such a thing."  
  
"Do you want to stay here another day?"  
  
She made a face at him and walked upstairs with Specs. She stretched out on her bed and began to randomly shuffle the cards Specs had left there the night before.  
  
He sat down next to her and began to rub her back, "You wanna play some poker?"  
  
She shook her head and put the cards down, "Tomorrow's gonna be great." Obviously she was impatient to get back outside selling papers.  
  
After she had fallen asleep Specs felt a few strange bumps on her lower back. He lifted her shirt enough to reveal a few thin scars running across her back. He winced remembering her description of being beaten by her stepfather. If the man were still alive and Specs were to meet him he would have soaked him for what he did.  
  
The scars also reminded Specs of the ones he had. That in turn caused memories of his life before the newsies to resurface. He pulled away from her and shivered. He looked at her for a few seconds before leaving the room. It was too painful to be reminded of it anymore.  
  
A/N: well now I'm gonna go mini golfing with my friends. I hope you all like this chapter. I'll try to add more but I got a really bad grade on an English paper so I need to focus on school a little more before finals. Read and Review. Luv ya lots ~Megan 


	8. Inheritance, Francis Sullivan, coughing,...

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 8  
  
By Megan  
  
Hotshot was up at Brooklyn time the next morning. Maybe it was because she was eager to get out or it could have been because she'd fallen asleep early the night before. Her stomach was growling slightly because she'd eaten almost nothing the day before but she was used to ignoring it. She pushed herself out of bed and pulled on her clothes. Even if Medda or Jack wanted her to stay in another day she'd be out the window before lunch. She was adjusting the last of her hair under her hat when Medda came in.  
  
"Aahhh, ready so early," A smile was on her face. "The doors are closed and locked at eight so be in before that."  
  
Hotshot rolled her eyes slightly. If she were late she'd just climb in through the fire escape.  
  
"And we lock the windows so you can't come in late through the fire escape."  
  
For that the older woman got an amazed but annoyed look. "Alright, I'm gonna head out."  
  
"See you later."  
  
Hotshot climbed out the window onto the fire escape. She was noticing a few newsies wandering to the depot to get their papes early. Specs was walking along with Kid Blink. She quickened her pace to catch up to them. They smiled when they saw her and Specs wrapped an arm around her waist. After a few seconds he pulled it back quickly, as though he'd been burned.  
  
While Hotshot thought he'd pulled back because it would make it obvious that she was a girl Specs had pulled back because he could still feel the scars and it bothered him. They reached the depot just as Weasel sounded the bell.  
  
"Miss me Weasel," she smiled.  
  
"As always. How many?"  
  
"Hundred." She placed money on the counter.  
  
Just her luck Oscar was the one to bring the papers out. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her.  
  
"I thought you'd be outta here by now." His brother moved to stand directly behind him.  
  
"Jus' think a this boys, next time I see you you're the ones who are gonna spend two weeks recuperating. I have a secret weapon and trust me you ain't seen anything like it."  
  
"Bring it on kid. We beat you once we can do it again." Maurice spoke.  
  
Hotshot only made a rude gesture and walked away with her papers. She sat and waited for Specs who walked over with Jack a few minutes later.  
  
"You stay with Specs taday," he ordered, "Don' go off at all, an' Specs walk her back to Medda's an' be sure she goes inside 'fore you leave."  
  
The two nodded and walked away. Specs scanned the headlines and asked, "Which one you want?"  
  
"I'll take the one about the politician." She started yelling the headline and people walked over to her to buy papers. Specs decided on another headline that had potential and did the same. By noon they'd sold all of their morning papers and walked to Tibby's for lunch. A lot of newsies were there already but it wasn't extremely crowded. Racetrack yelled for them to come sit around his table. The table was small, only holding him, Specs, Hotshot, Kid Blink and Mush. They were the only newsies from their lodging house there that early so no one else paid attention to them.  
  
Specs was the first to notice a man walking around the restaurant talking to different newsies. When he approached their table he smiled, "Do any of you know this girl? I'm with a group of detectives searching for her."  
  
He held out a photograph that made Hotshot inwardly wince. It was a picture of her in a long elegant dress, along with her brother in the background. While the other four at the table quickly replied that they hadn't seen her Hotshot wanted to find out more about what was going on. The detective obviously didn't recognize her. "I dunno, how old would she be now?" She asked taking the picture.  
  
"Seventeen." The man said.  
  
"She got a name?"  
  
"Brooke Maria Lynn."  
  
"An' why's her uncle so eager to get her back?"  
  
"She has an inheritance. Why are you so interested kid?"  
  
"She's pretty, that's all." To help her scheme work Mush and Race laughed a little.  
  
The detective took back the photo and turned and walked out the door. The four boys immediately turned to glare at her.  
  
"One word to Jack or anyone else," she said, "An' I'll soak you's. You know I will so keep your mouths shut."  
  
Kid Blink, Mush, and Racetrack closed their mouths and nodded in agreement. Specs nodded but then hit her in the back of the head, "What's wrong wit' you. They coulda caught you."  
  
"They didn't recognize me an' they sure as hell ain't gonna search me so it didn't matter. Anyway Specs now I know part of the reason my uncle wants me back."  
  
At this he shut his mouth and quickly finished his sandwich. When they were done the group went outside to return to the depot. They passed a group of detectives, including the one from Tibby's. "I guess those newsies were tellin' the truth. All of them either don't know her, say she stopped for a night before going to Queens, or they're hitting on her." It was the detective from the restaurant speaking.  
  
"Well then," said another, "We should move our search to Queens tomorrow."  
  
After selling the afternoon papers Specs and Hotshot climbed to the Jacobs' roof. While Specs was correcting Sarah's mistakes on the quiz he'd given her Hotshot was convincing her to go to Medda's that night. It was easy to convince her to come. She wanted to get away from her brothers for the night.  
  
Specs came over with her quiz, "Perfect," he said, "If you keep this up you won't need me no more."  
  
"More time for sellin' papes," Hotshot smiled at him.  
  
"I think not." He said, "I'se got other things planned."  
  
She shook her head and frowned as she looked at her pocket watch. They had to start back to the theater or she'd be late. Specs saw her frown and looked over her shoulder. "See ya tomorrow Sarah," he said pushing her toward the fire escape.  
  
"See ya. I'll be over in an hour Hotshot."  
  
Hotshot waved, showing she'd heard. She and Specs climbed down the fire escape and walked to Medda's. Specs came inside for a minute and saw the same Spanish boys as the day before smiling at him. With a glare Hotshot sent them away, "I'll see you in the mornin' then."  
  
Specs kissed her silently before replying, "Yeah, I'll meet you at the depot."  
  
She tried to wrap an arm around his neck before she kissed him again, "Damn Specs, you's too tall."  
  
Specs laughed, the fact that she was standing a step lower than him on stairs probably had something to do with it. He walked down two steps and wrapped his arms around her waist. Feeling the scars through the shirt she wore still bothered him but he ignored it since he couldn't touch her in public anymore.  
  
"Bye," he said pulling back and turning toward the door.  
  
"Bye," Hotshot started to climb the stairs.  
  
The Spanish boys were standing at the top. "I did not know you have a boyfriend?" Miguel said.  
  
"Well now you do." From her mothers' description of her family Hotshot knew the dominant glare the boys had in their eyes. "An' if you don't back off now I'll kick you all the way back to Madrid." At her threat all of the boys backed up a few steps and thanks to a simple kick they went running. "Men," she sighed.  
  
Sarah arrived minutes later and the two of them sat around the kitchen table for hours just talking and playing cards.  
  
"So how are things with you and Jack?" Hotshot asked.  
  
"Great. I mean a lot of people think he's stuck up because he doesn't trust easy. He's just used to being careful about the whole 'Francis Sullivan' thing. He's really sweet once you get to know him."  
  
"Francis Sullivan?"  
  
"It's his real name," Sarah explained, "His mother is dead, his father's in the state penitentiary. He was in the refuge for a while but he escaped and changed his name to Jack Kelly. After the strike they said he doesn't have to go back."  
  
"Wow," the new information shocked Hotshot; she had more in common with Jack than she thought.  
  
"Yeah, so what about you and Specs?"  
  
"Does everyone know about that?"  
  
"Probably; you and Specs hid it well but it leaked to a few of them and kind of spread."  
  
"We're doin' good." Hotshot really didn't know what to say. She'd never talked about a relationship with another girl before. There were only a few male newsies she could talk to about Spot.  
  
"You two are so cute together."  
  
"We are?"  
  
"Yeah, you look perfect together and you get along so well."  
  
Hotshot shrugged as Medda walked intro the room followed by David.  
  
"Hey Hotshot," David said, "Sarah you ready to go."  
  
"Sure." She stood and smiled, "Thank you Medda. I'll see you later Brooke"  
  
Hotshot winced, "Please call me Hotshot."  
  
David smiled at her reaction. Many of the other newsies had the same reaction if you called them by their real names. He and Sarah walked out the door, which was closed and locked behind them.  
  
Hotshot retreated to her room. She played a few games of poker against herself before putting her cards away and going to bed. She was going back to the lodging house tomorrow and that was all she was worried about.  
  
The next morning she was up early again, and barely greeted Medda before she left. The boys were waiting for her at the depot. Skittery had her slingshot in his hand and was bothering the others by aiming it at them. "Thanks, I was lookin' for that," she said grabbing it.  
  
"I didn't do it," came Skittery's usual reply for when he was surprised. When he saw Hotshot he grinned. "Heya Hotshot."  
  
She jumped down from the crate she was standing on and stood in line with the rest of them. Jack and Specs were waiting for her when she bought her papers. "What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"You's sellin' wit' me taday," Jack said leaving no room for argument, "You an' me needs ta talk."  
  
She nodded, "Alright, I'll see you back at the lodging house tonight Specs."  
  
Specs nodded silently and because he couldn't kiss her before they left he patted her on the back and walked in a different direction with Dutchy and Skittery.  
  
"What do we need to talk about?" she asked Jack when they had been walking for a few minutes and selling papers.  
  
"What Sarah told you the other night, about me."  
  
"Jack, It really don't matta if you don't wanna tell me. I… I dunno what to say to you's about it."  
  
"Mos' a the othas know 'bout it so you should too."  
  
"You don't hafta."  
  
"Well, I wanna. I kept it from almos' everyone 'fore the strike an' den they found out an' well they forgave me for not tellin' dem but it was hard on me ta know I lied."  
  
"You didn't lie ta me Jack," Hotshot commented, "You jus' neva told me anythin'."  
  
"Well, I's gonna tell you now so shut up an' listen." Hotshot closed her mouth at his harsh tone and looked at him. "Go ahead then."  
  
"It all started when I was six an' me mum got sick. She'd had me an' two otha kids who was stillborn. I think there was another 'fore me but no one tol' me. Anyway me mum would work real hard to clean, cook, an' teach me ta read, write, do math, an' all that otha stuff. Well the day she got sick she jus' didn't get outta bed. Me fatha left for work real early in the mornin' so we weren't up when he left. Well I went to my mum's room when I got up an' she was still in bed. She jus couldn't get outta bed an' her face was this awful whitish color. She tol' me to run down the street and get me dad. When I got to his office he was real mad that I interrupted him but he came home wit' me an' we got a doctor. I dunno what was wrong with her an' I still don't. The docta an' me dad neva tol' me. But my mum was sick 'til I was nine. Den one morning when I got up an' went in her room she was real cold. I was only a little kid so I though she was just real sick and tired. I sat with her all day begging her to wake up an' when my dad got home he started cursing and locked me in my room before he got the doctor. When he let me out again she was gone. They took her to the morgue. They had a funeral for her that was real nice. I ain't never gone ta visit but I remember it was real pretty."  
  
"I'm sorry Jack," Hotshot put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
He shrugged it off, "S'alright."  
  
"Well after me mum died me dad got all depressed. He really didn't do his job so they fired him. We lived on our savings for a while but we didn't have much to begin with. He did all he could to keep me with him even though he didn't pay much attention to me. He yelled a lot and hit me a few times. He got some money from a friend to keep us in a boarding house but he had to steal food sometimes. The firs' time I got caught he paid for me to get out of the refuge. I sure as hell got a beating that night. He was so mad, an' a little drunk I think. Anyway, the social services came over a bunch a times 'cause neighbors told the bulls that my dad was either abusing me or neglecting me. When I was eleven or twelve some guy came an' said my dad's business partner, Mr. Snyder, told him that I was being beaten. The guy said he had to put me in the custody of the state. I didn't wanna go away from my dad an' he didn't wanna let the man take me away. I ran to my room and my dad fought with the guy; broke his jaw. They sent my dad to jail and put me in the orphanage but I ran away. I started bein' a newsie sometimes. But I ended up stealing food 'cause I couldn't afford a place to stay. Snyder found me one day an' put me in the refuge. I escaped durin' an inspection by the governor and found the lodging house here. I guess they looked up ta me 'cause a my attitude and fighting abilities or sumthin'. After Ambition, the old Manhattan leader, left he passed things onto me. I heard right after I got here that me dad got sent to the state penitentiary for fighting with other prisoners and trying to kill a prison guard."  
  
"Jack, I really don' know what ta say."  
  
"Then don't say nuthin," he replaced his frown wit' a grin. "Sarah said you two had fun las' night. Maybe you should spend some time wit' the goils in the dorms. We knows a few of them who woik at the other theater who'd wanna hang out wit' you."  
  
"I dunno, I really don't care."  
  
"I'll talk to 'em tomorrow then. It'll be good for you to spend time wit' some goils."  
  
They finished selling their papers and walked to Tibby's to meet up with everyone. The other boys seemed to be strewn throughout the room. Hotshot collapsed into an empty chair. She was still pondering Jacks idea. She wasn't sure if it was a good one. Some of the girls were known to act like sluts and she wasn't used to hanging out with a lot of girls who were her age. She looked up as Bumlets tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"You're in my seat kid." He said.  
  
She shrugged, "So."  
  
He picked her up and dropped her into an empty seat next to Kid Blink as the others laughed. Kid Blink laughed so hard he began to cough. He continued to cough and seemed unable to stop.  
  
"You ok, Blinky boy?" Itey asked patting him on the back.  
  
Kid Blink only nodded as he pushed himself into a standing position and walked to the washroom. When the hacking coughs quieted people went back to their normal business. When most of them had left Blink came back out of the washroom and sat down.  
  
"You ok Kid?" Hotshot asked. He was somewhat pale and still focusing on breathing correctly.  
  
"Yeah," he said, "Jus' a little cold." He shrugged and looked at her and Jack as the circulation bell began to ring again. "Let's go sell some papes."  
  
Even though he had some people worried he seemed to be back to his normal self. Jack, Hotshot and the others let his unusual behavior slide and went back to their normal routine.  
  
That night they had all forgotten about the afternoon's events and were celebrating Hotshot's return to the lodging house. There was music playing and a large poker game started almost instantly. Hotshot and Racetrack dominating most of the games, as usual. Racetrack did his victory dance at the end of the night when Hotshot folded and let him win the last game.  
  
"C'mon Hotshot, one more." he said smiling cockily.  
  
"Nah Race," she said, "I'm goin' ta bed." There were only a few other newsies still in the crowd. Most of them had gone to bed long ago. Hotshot changed quickly in the washroom and crawled into bed.  
  
Specs looked over the edge of his bunk, "You let him win," he accused.  
  
"I did no such thing," she claimed.  
  
"Hotshot I saw your cards and his. You had the better hand and poker face an' you knew he couldn't have beaten what you had."  
  
"Alright, I let him win tonight. Tomorrow I won't take it so easy on him."  
  
The next morning she woke up with the other bots in the lodging house. Everyone was grumbling and complaining about it being too early to get up but she was ready to go. Within minutes she was up and out the door. Jack caught up with her at the distribution center.  
  
"I'm goin' to Brooklyn today," he said, "Any messages for Spot."  
  
She looked at him for a moment, "Tell 'im I miss him an' I hope I see him soon."  
  
"Alright, meet me at Tibby's after you sell your afternoon papers." With that he took off in the direction of Brooklyn leaving Hotshot and a few others staring after him.  
  
Hotshot just shrugged and bought her papers. She sat down next to Kid Blink and waited for Specs to buy his.  
  
"If you ask me how I'm feeling I swear to God I will soak you." Kid Blink warned her.  
  
She laughed at him; "Blink a. you can take care of yourself, and b. you couldn't soak me if you tried."  
  
He looked at her, "I guess you're right. So how's things goin' wit' Specs."  
  
"It's not."  
  
"You two broke up!"  
  
"No, just nothing's happening right now."  
  
"Well if you want my advice."  
  
She immediately covered her ears; "I will never ask you for advice. I don't think I'll ever be that desperate."  
  
He was shaking his head at her when Specs came over and joined them on the large crate, "So what's up today guys? Any good headlines?"  
  
"Not great but we can improve upon 'em." Kid Blink smiled.  
  
"Say Kid, how are ya feelin' this mornin'?" Specs asked innocently.  
  
"Breathe," Hotshot ordered him before he could pounce on Specs. She then turned to Specs and said, "He's fine."  
  
Specs was trying to hide his smile. Kid Blink calmed down and picked up his papers. "You mind an extra selling partner today Specs?"  
  
Specs merely shrugged in response, "Let's go."  
  
The three of them set off through Manhattan selling papers to whomever they could find. They used the usual tricks; pity, fake headlines, faking illnesses and so on. Not only did they sell all their papers but they reached Tibby's at the same time as most of their friends. Racetrack, however, was suspiciously absent.  
  
"Hey Crutchy, where's Race?" Mush asked.  
  
"You know him. Hot tip on a Race so he can't leave the tracks." Crutchy rolled his eyes at Race's usual behavior, "One a these days he'll get in ova his head if he ain't careful."  
  
That afternoon it was harder to sell papers. There weren't as many people outside and the morning crowds were not going to be fooled again, today anyway. They slowly made their way back to Tibby's and the square. They stopped there and read their papers until Hotshot saw Jack going into the restaurant. She picked up her four or five remaining papers and nodded a goodbye to Kid Blink and Specs.  
  
Jack was seated at a table surrounded by girls. Hotshot was smiling at the plan forming in her head. She walked over and whispered seductively in his ear. "You're getting' more and more like Mush every day Cowboy."  
  
When he turned around and saw who it was he jumped, "Don' do that Hotshot!"  
  
"How's Spot?"  
  
"Misses you, and wishes you could come back but the place still has a few lurking detectives. Now down to business, this here is Hummingbird an' her friends." He introduced the rest of the dormitory girls seated around the table. "Now ladies, I will be back in a few. I gotsta get sumthin' from the lodging house." He then leaned forward and whispered in Hotshot's ear, "Try to find somethin' to talk about."  
  
When he was gone Hummingbird was the first to speak up, "Did you really date Spot Conlon?"  
  
Hotshot sighed and rolled her eyes remembering what girls her age talked about, "Yeah."  
  
"I can't believe you dumped him." When Hotshot only shrugged she spoke, "Who are you going with now?"  
  
"Specs."  
  
A few of the girls hid laughter behind their hands. Who would dump Spot for Specs? Granted Specs was cute but Spot was gorgeous. How had Spot liked the girl in front of them dressed in boy's clothes?  
  
Hummingbird hid her laugh well, "It's nice to meet you?" She extended her hand.  
  
Hotshot spit in hers and raised an eyebrow when Hummingbird jerked her hand back. "Smatter!?"  
  
"That's disgusting!"  
  
Hotshot turned as Jack came back into the restaurant. "Later," she handed him her remaining papers and spoke quietly to him only, "I don't spend time conversing with people like them. They live on the streets yet they don't know a spit shake an' I ain't gonna put up with this crap about my clothes and my boyfriend." 


	9. The Delancy's and a coughing fit

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 9  
  
By Megan  
  
Hotshot was steaming when she reached the lodging house and walked straight upstairs, ignoring Racetrack's cries.  
  
"Heya Hotshot, we's playin' poker. You wanna play!"  
  
All of the other newsies were in the room and yelled after her to come back. A few of them stared after her silently.  
  
"What'd Jack do this time?" Dutchy asked the small group of them. His response was a few shrugs from his friends.  
  
Jack stumbled into the lodging house a few minutes later with a worried look on his face, "Where's Hotshot?"  
  
"Upstairs," Skittery said, "What'd you do?"  
  
"I have no idea." Ignoring any further comments Jack took off up the stairs. Specs stared after him, worried, and took off after him. "Go back downstairs." Jack hissed at him when they had both reached the landing.  
  
"Why? I'm not the one she's pissed off at. Now what'd you say to her?" Specs was furious.  
  
"I didn't say anything. I told her yestaday that she should spend time wit' some other girls her age an' I introduced her to Hummin'bird and the other girls." Jack ran a hand over his face in aggravation, "I came here to get something an' when I got back she stormed out. Hummin'bird and her girls said somethin' to her but I dunno what."  
  
Specs shook his head, "You let her talk to Hummingbird. Jack, what's wrong with you."  
  
"Whatta you mean by that?"  
  
"Everyone knows Hummingbird don't like any girl who don't act like her an' her friends. An' Hotshot is the exact opposite a all a them."  
  
Jack sighed, "Alright, Specs go downstairs. I'm gonna go talk to Hotshot."  
  
Specs looked at him for a second, then turned and walked downstairs, occasionally looking over his shoulder.  
  
"I'se sorry," was the first thing Jack said when he entered the bunkroom, "None a the newsies have even talked ta those girls in months. I forgot how they act toward people who are different. I can try an' find some other girls who're more like you-"  
  
"Cool it Jack. I don't need to hang out with any girls to be normal. I've been hanging out with basically all guys since I was nine. Sarah an' her friends are nice to hand out with once and a while but I'm so used to living wit' guys that bein' 'round 'em too much just bothers me."  
  
"You're fine with just hanging around with us?"  
  
She laughed at the shocked look that appeared on his face. "Jack if I wasn't I woulda run of a long time ago."  
  
"So we're fine."  
  
"As long as I don't hafta see those sluts again we are."  
  
"Deal," They shook on it in the typical newsie fashion. Then they walked back downstairs. Once Hotshot had taken her seat she proceeded to get revenge on Racetrack for the previous night. She walked upstairs again later leaving Racetrack with his pockets nearly empty. As usual he was calling after her for one more game to get his money back. She left half the money she'd won off of him on his pillow. Unlike Racetrack and the guys she didn't feel like she needed the money she won and was merciful toward them.  
  
Specs was stretched out on her bunk when she reached it, "What happened at Tibby's?"  
  
"Nothin', I just had a disagreement wit' some girls but I'm over it. Now get off my bed so I can go to sleep."  
  
He smiled meaningfully, "and if I don't."  
  
"I'll soak you."  
  
Specs knew her threat was empty. She was too tired to carry it out and it showed. If he didn't move she'd probably just climb up in his bunk for the night. Being as smart as he was Specs refused.  
  
"Specs," she complained, "I'm tired. All I want is to go to bed."  
  
"No."  
  
She gave up and collapsed next to him on the bottom bunk, "Evil."  
  
He rolled over giving her more room to lie down and looked down at her, "You know it."  
  
She punched him hard in the chest for that comment and sent him sprawling to the floor. He sat up rubbing his sore chest and complaining, "That hurt."  
  
"I told you," was all she said in response before rolling over.  
  
He sat on the floor for a minute staring at her. As the other boys began to come into the room he pushed himself off of the ground and climbed into bed.  
  
The next morning came too early for all of the room's occupants. When Kloppman came in they were all complaining, "Can I be sick or injured now?" Snoddy joked. A few pillows were the price for his remark. They all reluctantly dragged themselves out of bed and got ready for another long day.  
  
The next few weeks passed as quickly as the first few after Hotshot had arrived. She received and sent occasional letters to Spot and sent them with Jack. It became a weekly occurrence for her to go out with Sarah and some of Sarah's friends. Once or twice a few other Brooklyn newsies visited her while they were walking through Manhattan. She also continued to practice fighting, being sure the Delancy's hadn't forgotten about her when they glared at her each morning. Things with Specs were also going well. They had been stuck in one place for a while but she had talked to his friends. Bumlets, Dutchy, Skittery, and Snipeshooter filled her in on what Specs liked to do. Specs was getting the same information from Kid Blink, Race, and Spot. The information each gathered helped things go much more smoothly. There were a few clubs in the city that let newsies in so they went to them a few tomes and others just hung out on the roof.  
  
Another revelation was that Jack had allowed her to start selling on her own. She didn't mind selling with Specs but Jack told her it would be better for their relationship if they didn't spend all of their time together.  
  
When she started selling by herself she realized some things about their relationship. When she had dated Spot they'd known each other for a long time and everyone knew she was a girl so they could do everything in public. Spot was her best friend then but she couldn't talk to him about everything because he was the leader. With Specs, their time together was limited and they had to be alone or well hidden. Most of the time he didn't even kiss her. He was more approachable because he wasn't in charge and was willing to talk about everything. He was more like a best friend who just occasionally kissed her. That was why it didn't shock her when they broke up.  
  
"The timings just off," Specs told her, "I'm interested but we can't do anything a normal couple does because you're hiding." He was looking at her hoping she wouldn't take it too hard.  
  
"I agree," Her answer surprised him. She knew if they didn't end it soon something would mess it up and they'd be so mad at each other that she'd probably run off. "When this is all over maybe it'll work but now's not the right time."  
  
Specs smiled. The two of them were sitting on the roof of the lodging house watching the stars while the others played the nightly poker game inside. "We still need to spend time together though."  
  
"Specs, if you weren't here my sanity would be long gone by now."  
  
A whoop from downstairs sent them both into a fit of laughter as Jack beat Racetrack for the third straight game. She was right; the other boys could drive someone insane.  
  
When most of the guys found out they were more concerned about Hotshot than Specs. She got plenty of offers to soak him and questions. "Guys, I don' want you's ta soak him. We're both fine with it." Unlike most girls who said that only to seem strong she was serious. She figured out that they needed to be friends before they dated and they weren't close enough to date yet.  
  
"Gee, thanks fellas," Specs said sarcastically after he heard their offers, "It's nice to know I can count on you to cheer me up."  
  
She went back to selling by herself and sometimes with a small group of newsies after the whole Specs issue had been cleared up.  
  
It was one day when she was with David that the Delancy brothers finally kept their promise to soak her again. They were walking through an alley (You'd think they'd learn by now) one afternoon on their way to Tibby's. David, who still didn't know the streets as well as the other newsies, accidentally lead them down a dead end.  
  
"Whatta we got here?" Oscars voice drawled behind them as they reached the wall. "Looks like some trash from the sewers."  
  
Hotshot and David both spun around to face Oscar and Maurice who were grinning. David's glare was as unforgiving as Hotshots. Near the end of the strike they'd tried to beat him up but failed because of Jack. "We can take 'um." He whispered to Hotshot.  
  
She nodded looking around the area for something to use. Her eyes landed on the fire escape out of both her and David's reach. Here eyes locked on David's and she glanced upward. He put his hands together and gave her a boost as the brothers charged. Hotshot swung herself on the bottom rung of the ladder as David jumped out of the way. She swung forward too late to kick them in the stomach but hit their backs herd enough to send them crashing into the wall. She landed on the ground behind them and jumped back as they tuned around. David had signaled her that he wanted Oscar and she only nodded in reply. The two went back to back ready to lash out at either of the brothers. Maurice reached into his pocket for his famous brass knuckles and a confused look came over his face, as he couldn't find them. Hotshot smiled as she placed a somewhat heavy object in David's pocket. He reached in and pulled it out. "So how tough are you without these Maurice?" he asked waving them around in front of him.  
  
Oscar launched himself at David but the Brooklyn tricks landed him right back on the ground. Hotshot and Maurice moved farther over to fight separately. "You ain't nothin' but a pickpocket," Maurice said.  
  
Hotshot smiled, if only he knew. But replied, "An' proud of it."  
  
He launched himself at her but this time she was prepared. She turned her body just enough to send him flying past her. He came back much slower. She started the combination Kid Blink had seen her doing on the roof. Out of the ten punches only one missed. The other nine landed on his stomach, chest, and face as she counted, "Uno… Dos… Tres…" After Diez she paused for a moment then launched herself into the air. She swung her leg around and her foot collided with the side of his head. He hit the ground hard and was somehow up again in seconds. He threw one punch that landed on her face. At least she'd have a nice battle scar for a few weeks; a black eye. The rest of his coordination was completely off though, he couldn't even walk straight. One kick would finish him off, but it would have to be hard. She turned slightly and pushed off a wall to get herself going fast enough. Sticking her foot out in front of her she hit his face and he dropped to the ground.  
  
She landed more softly and looked over toward where David and Oscar had been fighting. Like his brother Oscar was stretched out on the ground. His nose looked broken and the rest of him was probably covered with bruises. David was sitting against the side of the building trying to catch his breath. The only evidence that he'd been fighting was a bit of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
"You ok?" she helped him to his feet.  
  
"Mmm hmmm," he nodded, "You're gonna have a real shiner in a couple a hours."  
  
She shrugged, "Ain't like it never happened before."  
  
The two quickly left the alleys and got to Tibby's. Jack was on them seconds after they walked in the door. They explained to him their situation and, with many interruptions, convinced him that they would live. The only thing Jack insisted on was getting a piece of ice for Hotshot's eye. They were surrounded by other newsies the minute they sat down, everyone wanted all the gory details.  
  
Back at the lodging house that night Kloppman raised an eyebrow when they returned, "You ever gonna stop fightin'?"  
  
"Never," she smiled, knowing she worried the old man.  
  
Specs stared at her for about two seconds after she entered the room. He hadn't been at Tibby's that afternoon to hear the story and he hadn't seen her so the sight of her shocked him. He jumped off his bunk and landed on Dutchy who was walking between the two bunks. The two of them collapsed into a pile on the floor.  
  
She couldn't help but laugh and spoke as they untangled themselves, "I'm fine. Dave an' me jus' had a little fight wit' the Delancy bruthas."  
  
Specs looked at her eye, "A little fight? Are you aware that you have a black eye."  
  
"Yeah, but you should see the other guys. Oscar's got a broken nose and Maurice's got some nasty cuts from running into stonewalls. They're both gonna have a bunch a bums and bruises."  
  
Specs was staring her in the face trying to decide if she was lying or not. "There'd better be proof at the distribution office tomorrow," he told her.  
  
She nodded and motioned him away with a wave of her hand. When he got out of her way she sat down at Race's poker game. Because she was partially disabled for the night Race decided to try a few of his old tricks. Unfortunately Hotshot knew all his tricks. She saw him pull a card out of his sleeve and practically yelled, "Whatta you think you're doin'?"  
  
To respond he jumped almost a foot in the air and dropped all his cards. Bumlets had been sitting behind him and pulled the chair as he went to sit back down. In other word, Race was introduced to the floor.  
  
There were no really big wins that night and they all went to bed without complaining that they couldn't buy papes the next day. Racetrack, however, stopped by Hotshot's bunk on the way to his bed, "Umm, thanks for the money the other night," he said glancing around, and hoping nobody heard him.  
  
"Don' worry about it," she said, "Just remember." A wicked smile played on her face, "You owe me."  
  
Racetrack winced, "You'se gonna use that against me aintcha."  
  
"You have no idea," She grinned and rolled over.  
  
Race stumbled off to his bed as Specs came over, "There's a party down at the pub next weekend." He said, "You wanna go?"  
  
She shrugged, "Maybe, depends on what's up 'round here and how good my games wit' Race are. Who else is goin'?"  
  
"Uh, I think Mush is takin' one a the goils from across town. Dutchy'll be there, Skittery, Bumlets, maybe Crutchy. A few Brooklyn guys were sayin' they might come."  
  
"Alright," she said, "Like I said, it depends on how things go."  
  
She ducked as a boot went flying by her head. She picked it up off the floor and threw it back in the direction of the washroom, where it had come from. Kid Blink was coming out and dove out of its way.  
  
"What's goin' on in there?" Specs asked.  
  
"Snipeshooter stole anudder one a Race's cigars. The Havana one's he got for his birthday."  
  
"Dios Mios," Hotshot sighed and leaned back against her pillow. "All a you get in here an' get in bed 'fore I soak every one a you!" She yelled when another shoe flew in her direction. She took careful aim for the middle of the fighting and they all jumped apart. "Snipeshooter, give Race his cigar back. If you want one that bad you can work harder tomorrow so you's gots enough to buy one," she sighed, "Men, leave 'em to their own devices and this is what you get." A few pillows were tossed in her direction for the comment. She rolled over and pulled a sheet over her and fell asleep as the room quieted down.  
  
A few hours later Specs was awakened by a loud hacking cough that was occasionally heard around the bunkroom lately. He pushed him self out of bed and went to check on his friend. Blink wasn't in his bed so Specs walked over to the washroom. "You alright Kid?" he asked walking in. He almost tripped when he saw Kid Blink sitting on the floor next to the toilet. Kid tried to nod but sent himself into another coughing fit and he coughed up more of a dark liquid. Specs turned on the dimmest of the lights in the room, first so it would be easy for his eyes to adjust and secondly so he wouldn't wake anyone else up. "Kid?"  
  
Kid Blink sat back and spoke in an almost choked voice, "Towel,"  
  
Specs picked up a towel and tossed it at him. He then filled a glass with water and brought it over. He was very disturbed when he found blood on the towel and floor around Kid. "Here." He handed the glass to his friend, "Kid, what's wrong with you?"  
  
"It's just a cold," he claimed.  
  
"Kid Blink," Specs challenged, "Most colds don't make you cough up blood. This is serious. Maybe you should go see the doctor tomorrow."  
  
Kid took a few small sips out of the glass and Specs felt his forehead, "You're burning up!" he hissed.  
  
"I'se had colds before Specs. I'll be fine." He matched Specs' tone but coughed some more.  
  
"Fine don't go to the doctors, but I'm tellin' Jack in the morning."  
  
Kid Blink's eyes went wide and he grabbed Specs' arm. "Specs, please, don't tell Jack. I'm fine I promise. I just need ta take it easy sellin' for a few days. Just gimme a few days and I promise I'll be better. Don't tell nobody Specs. C'mon help me out here."  
  
Specs looked down at Kid Blink's pitiful face. Something in his gut told him he should tell Jack or Kloppman but Blink's face was so pleading that he couldn't ignore it. "Alright," he agreed, "But if you're not better in a few days I'm telling Jack."  
  
Kid Blink nodded in agreement, "Thanks Specs." Another coughing fit suddenly hit him and he coughed up more blood. Specs knew he couldn't back out of his promise so he just sat there and rubbed Kid Blink's back, talking quietly until the fit passed. Unfortunately for the boy affectionately known as Kid many more followed before his body seemed too tired to even cough anymore.  
  
"You better be ok." Specs said too quietly for the shorter youth to hear. When Kid Blink finally regained the ability to breath properly and hadn't had a coughing fit for over half an hour Specs helped him back to bed and cleaned up the washroom.  
  
The next day he and Kid Blink shared a glance before they went out the door. Kid Blink looked away acknowledging the fact that he needed to slow down. Kid Blink went of with Mush and Crutchy while Specs went off in the opposite direction with Hotshot. He sighed knowing Kid would probably do as much work as usual. Hotshot could tell he was worried and asked what was on his mind. Specs didn't want to talk about it and seemed somewhat distant so she grabbed his arm and began yelling headlines regaining his attention. His mind became more focused on selling his own papes and memories of the night before drifted to the back of his mind.  
  
Hey everybody! Havin' a good day I hope. Mines been great. Today (May 23rd) is my 15th birthday and it was great, otha than the fact dat we had school. My friends decorated me and my sisters' lockers with feathers, balloons, and paper. (We're twins). I had no homework and my last color guard practice before the parade (gulp) and until next year (tear). Well I'll write another chapter or two before finals. I promise.  
  
luv ya all  
  
Megan 


	10. Tuberculosis

Past Secrets and Present Times  
  
Chapter 10  
  
By Megan  
  
Specs realized that as promised Oscar and Maurice had been covered in bandages. Hotshot's black eye was quite a spectacle, and interested any newsie she came in contact with. One of Les' friends was going around with David, Jack, and Les that morning when Specs and Hotshot ran into them and went to grab some lunch at Tibby's. He'd already heard the story of the fight from numerous newsies and not knowing who she was began telling Hotshot the story, completely exaggerating everything.  
  
Hotshot laughed, "What's you's name, kid?" she asked.  
  
"Roger."  
  
"You gonna be a newsie like Les here when you get older?" She'd taken her hat off so he knew she was a girl.  
  
"Yeah," he smiled widely.  
  
"Jack, we gotta call this one 'Hyperbole' when he gets up here."  
  
Jack looked at her sideways, "A. why? An' B. what does dat mean."  
  
"Hyperbole is and exaggeration and that's what dis kid is doin' to my story."  
  
"No," Roger claimed, "Dat story's about Hotshot. He's a newsie." The table erupted into laughter and Roger looked around confused, "What's so funny?"  
  
Hotshot smiled, "Nice to meet you Roger. I'se Hotshot."  
  
"You! But you's a goil."  
  
"That don't got nuthin' ta do wit' it Roger. She's been a newsie in Brooklyn for nine years and she's one a the best fighters 'round here." Jack said, "So you best respect her. Some a us at the boarding house learned that the hard way."  
  
"So what's up with the two a you this afternoon?" Jack asked.  
  
"I was thinkin' a stopping up by the races and visiting Racetrack." Specs said, "Make sure he sold all his papes and doesn't get hisself locked out tonight."  
  
"Smart move," David said, "He'd be livin' on the streets if we weren't here to keep him in line." He nodded to Jack about needing to get the younger kids back to their mothers and doing some things around the house. "I'll see ya all tomorrow." He called back to them as he left. He didn't mind that all the guys were talking about Hotshot; he was just glad to have beaten Oscar up.  
  
"Well," Jack said as they walked out the door, "I gots some papes to sell. You two have fun at the races and make sure Race don't go overboard."  
  
They hitched a ride to Sheepshead on the back of a wagon and walked to Race's usual spot. He was looking over the wall at the horses running in the next race. Specs and Hotshot walked up next to him and examined the horses as well.  
  
Racetrack was concentrating so hard he didn't even notice them. "Fifty on numba t'ree," he told the man in charge of bets giving away his money.  
  
Hotshot reached over his shoulder, "Same on numba ten." She stated.  
  
Racetrack jumped, surprised to find any of the other newsies standing over his shoulder, especially Hotshot. "What are you's doin'?" he asked, "I ain't never seen you here before."  
  
"I ain't been here in years," she told him, "My dad used to bring me and me brutha when we was little and Andres took me after he got arrested, but I ain't been here since Andres died."  
  
"Well let's see how good you are at this," Specs said as the race started. Racetrack was out of his chair screaming for number three to go faster and get him some more money. He almost fell over when number ten crossed the finish line first. His jaw dropped and he turned to Hotshot as she collected her money.  
  
"How'd you do that?"  
  
"Easy," she said, "I picked the horse in the best physical condition." She pointed out the flaws in Race's pick and how her's was better. Race followed her advice and won money in the next race. They stayed the rest of the afternoon and got back to the lodging house reasonably early.  
  
Race was bragging about his winnings and Hotshot was playing cards with Dutchy when Specs found Kid Blink. "How you doin' taday?" he asked.  
  
Kid smiled, "I ain't coughed once all day."  
  
"Just be sure it stays that way." Specs walked off hoping that Kid Blink had been telling him the truth.  
  
Kid Blink did seem to be much better that week. He slowed down his selling for a few days and didn't seem as tired. Specs only heard him cough around the other guys once or twice and it didn't seem as bad as the night he'd been sick. Therefore Specs kept his mouth shut about it to Jack and everyone else.  
  
Since it was now mid August the city was the hottest it had been all year. Many of the newsies who wore a jacket, vest, or one shirt over another, would leave them at the lodging house or take them off halfway through the day. Hotshot was the only newsie that had a problem with the heat. Usually she wore long pants, boots, and a button down shirt over a tank top. If she took off the buttoned shirt it was obvious that she was a girl so by the end of the day she was dying. Because of her predicament there were also a lot more poker games in the bunkroom. Every afternoon she would only buy half the papers she normally did and go back to the lodging house after she finished selling. She'd throw the buttoned shirt on her bunk and start a game with whoever was there.  
  
She was sitting on a bunk playing Black Jack with Mush one night when the other guys started coming back from selling. They would each strip off their shirt to cool off. She laughed as Race sat to start a game of poker.  
  
"An' just what is so funny?" Jack asked quizzically.  
  
"I'm jus' thinkin' that I must be the luckiest girl in New York."  
  
"Oh yeah, and why is dat?" Jack asked, smiling cockily.  
  
"Well how many girls gets ta see eighteen of the cutest newsies without their shirts on everyday," She grinned right back at him.  
  
"Well now you know why the ladies is always after us." Mush said  
  
"So which one a us is the best lookin' wit'out his shirt Hotshot?" Race asked.  
  
She picked up a book that had found it's way under her bed and opened it, "No comment."  
  
"Ooohhh, we's gots a reporta on our hands gentlemen," Itey chimed in.  
  
Jack sat down on her bed and pulled the book out of her hands, "You ain't gettin' outta it that easy." He told her.  
  
She sighed and looked around the room. Other than Jack there were sixteen other guys in the room. "Where's Dave?" she asked.  
  
"Dave don' live here so he don't count." Swifty put in.  
  
"What don't I count for?" Dave asked coming into the room, "Jesus, guys it's hot in here." He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt.  
  
"Dave wins," Hotshot declared.  
  
"C'mon Hotshot, give us a real answer." Snitch said.  
  
"The only problem is it would be my personal opinion, not the opinion a all the girls in New York." She tried again to get out of it.  
  
"Well if you's so smart which one a us would the ladies of New York find most attractive?" Snoddy asked.  
  
She carefully examined each of the guys and narrowed it down from eighteen to ten. Ten to eight. Eight to five. The final five were Jack, Mush, Bumlets, Kid Blink, and Specs. "Mush," she finally decided, "Jack and Blink tied for second."  
  
Mush's usual smile spread across his face, "As if there was any doubt."  
  
Hotshot threw a pillow at him and settled back on her bunk as the rest of them took their seats. The light wasn't so good, and they guys were being loud, so she did what she usually did to read, went to the roof. It was hotter up there than ever but it was quiet and there was shade.  
  
"So what place did I get?" Specs asked as he sat down a few minutes later.  
  
"Since there was a tie for second you came in fourth. Not bad out of eighteen guys." She shrugged.  
  
"And what was the rank on your personal list."  
  
"We're so not going there."  
  
Specs held up his hands in defeat, "Fine, but just to tell you, you inflated Mush's ego way to much."  
  
She smiled, "If he doesn't tone down the bragging tell him that I'll tell all the girls in New York…" She whispered the rest in his ear and he was grinning when she pulled back.  
  
"You're evil you know that, I'd hate to be on your bad side." He jumped up and hurried downstairs. When Hotshot walked into the bunkroom an hour later Mush's bragging had long since ceased. She only smiled at him as she passed him.  
  
On Thursday Kid Blink went with Specs, Hotshot, Mush, Dutchy, Skittery and a few other newsies to the party in the bar down near Town Square. He regretted it somewhat when he came home. He was exhausted and coughing hard from the smoke that had surrounded the place. He made sure that Specs was fast asleep before he went into the washroom and coughed up a small amount of blood. When he was sure his coughing fit was over he crawled back into bed.  
  
The next day it was hard for him to sell. With the help of Mush and Crutchy he sold his last few papers and they grabbed a quick lunch at Tibby's. About half of the guys had had good sales during the morning so they were going back to the lodging house. Kid Blink hadn't sold very well but wanted them to think he had so he walked to the lodging house with them.  
  
Kid Blink, Specs, Dutchy, Skittery, Bumlets, Jack, Dave, Hotshot, Mush, Crutchy, Snipeshooter, Race, and Boots sat around the bunkroom playing a few large games of poker. In Hotshot, Race, and Jack's game the jackpot would get as high as over a dollar, while the others stayed around fifty cents. His shirt seemed tight over his chest so he unbuttoned it and took it off. It was also a lot harder to concentrate than it had been the day before. Because he was off he lost quite a few card games before he sat back and watched the action. Eventually all of the groups melted into one large one. Bumlets was telling them about an incident at the bar the previous night.  
  
"The bartender a course is hittin' on the girl that I'se wit' and so ya see I had ta do sumthin' so I accidentally elbowed him in the face. Here I'll show you 'xactly what happened. Race c'mere you can be the bartender." When Racetrack turned down the offer Bumlets reached for him. Race leaned back in his chair to get out of the older newsies reach but leaned back too far and had his face introduced to the hard floor.  
  
"Ugh," he complained pulling himself up. The others were all starting to laugh at him and he just laughed along with them still trying to keep out of Bumlets reach.  
  
Kid Blink laughed along with his friends, thinking nothing of it. He stood quickly when Race came running toward the bunk he was sitting on. As Race dove through it Kid Blink found himself dizzy and holding onto the metal frame to keep from falling over. He quickly regained his composure and watched the scene before him.  
  
Race was diving through bunks and climbing over them with Bumlets hot on his tail. Race may have been the master of tricks, but Bumlets was one of the masters of getting away from the bulls.  
  
Kid Blink was the other. The two had often caused trouble when they were younger. Bumlets' older brother had taught Bumlets how to pick pockets and Kid Blink was able to pick locks easily. The two of them knew every alley, street, and escape route in the city, and used them on a regular basis.  
  
Race dove through another set of bunk beds and landed off balance. Sensing Race's disadvantage Bumlets dove through the bunks after him. He tackled the shorter newsie to the ground. "Oofff," escaped Race's lips as he hit the ground. He hadn't been able to regain his balance soon enough. Within seconds he had control of his senses again and the two began wrestling on the floor. They rolled over and over while the other eleven newsies in the room laughed at their antics. As always the bunkroom was never boring.  
  
After a few minutes of rolling around and throwing punches Bumlets was victorious. He was sitting on top of Race and had pinned Race's arms to the ground by holding down his wrists. "I win," he simply stated.  
  
"Alright, you win. Now get offa me," Race struggled to get out from under the larger boy.  
  
"Say it."  
  
"Say what?" Race knew very well what Bumlets wanted him to say but wasn't giving in that easily.  
  
"Say Uncle."  
  
"Never," a thin laugh escaped Race's lips as Bumlets put more pressure on his wrists and stomach.  
  
"Man, you's gonna sqish 'im." Mush warned.  
  
"Nah, I know his breaking point." As Bumlets looked at Mush for a moment Race tried to throw him off but was not successful.  
  
"It ain't gonna be that easy midget," Bumlets warned.  
  
"Don' call me a midget," Race complained, "I ain't no midget."  
  
"Sure, whatever you say Race. Now say Uncle."  
  
"Just say it Race," Crutchy urged the doomed newsie.  
  
"No," Racetrack cried. He looked at his position on the floor for a minute. "Uh, Bumlets?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It really don' look good wit' you on top a me like dat. Maybe you should get off."  
  
Bumlets just laughed, "That's the oldest trick in the book me vertically challenged little friend. You's gonna hafta do better than that."  
  
"Um, Look it's Kloppman."  
  
"Keep goin'."  
  
"I'm thinkin' a them as fast as I can. Gimme a minute."  
  
Bumlets only laughed and shook his head.  
  
"I think I hear me mudah callin'." Race again tried to slide out from under the older boy.  
  
"I don't think so." Bumlets tightened his grip and leaned down closer to Racetracks' face, "Just say 'Uncle'."  
  
Racetracks comments continued flowing out of his mouth and eventually it turned to a conversation. A few miutes later Racetrack brought up a question, "Why is it you's still on top a me?"  
  
"I don't recall that you's said 'Uncle' yet." Bumlets said smirking nastily. Again he leaned down over Racetrack.  
  
"Bumlets man, go brush your teeth. Dear me what has you been eatin'." Race tried to bring his hand up and push Bumlets' face away from him.  
  
Kid Blink began to laugh at both Race's comment and the look on Bumlets' face. Once he started he couldn't stop, even when his chest seemed to tighten up. He tried to stop before he started coughing but the hacking coughs broke through everyone's laughter. The first person he looked at was Specs. Specs had stopped laughing completely and his face was completely serious. Kid Blink didn't realize he'd fallen until Specs arms were under his, keeping him from hitting the floor. Specs was the only one who seemed bothered by him falling. Kid Blink coughing and people falling over were a common occurrence around the lodging house. The fact that Specs had been standing next to Kid Blink seemed to help them notice even less.  
  
When Kid Blink looked up at the older newsie he was sure there was a disappointed look on his face. However, his vision was getting blurry and he couldn't tell. The coughing was still hitting him in waves but he seemed to have better control of it as it was starting to slow down.  
  
Specs immediately pulled him to his feet when he seemed ready. Kid Blink leaned on the frame of a bunk bed a little but his cough was slowing and his vision was clearing. The disappointed look on Specs' face was still there though he also looked somewhat relieved that no one had noticed.  
  
Just then Race cracked another joke that sent them all into hysterics again.  
  
Kid Blink tried desperately to keep himself from laughing but a giggle escaped and turned into a full out laugh. And because of the laughter another wave of hacking coughs hit him. This time, however, it was much worse than before. He picked up a handkerchief off of his bed and put it over his mouth as the coughing started.  
  
The entire groups laughter was broken by a loud hacking cough that seemed to be getting louder and louder, and worse and worse. They all looked over at Kid Blink, whose whole body shook with each new wave of coughs. Specs had a worried look on his face and had a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Uncle," Race said quickly, "Damn, Bumlets. Get offa me."  
  
Bumlets was off of him in seconds and the two were up off the ground. They all surrounded Specs and Kid Blink.  
  
Specs kept a tight grip on his friend who was to didn't seem as strong as usual and didn't put up much of a fight when Specs made him sit down. This made Specs worry even more. Usually when one of the guys told Kid to do something he would argue with them about it, and always insisted that there was nothing wrong with him.  
  
"Kid, you ok?" Jack asked as he rubbed Kid Blinks back.  
  
The boy tried to nod but kept coughing into the rag in his hand.  
  
"C'mon Kid, calm down," Mush tried to help him. He though maybe if Kid Blink weren't so nervous or worried that the coughing would slow down.  
  
Kid Blinks coughing seemed to climax sharply and start to decline. Throughout the decline he would get worse again and then better. It had been going on for more than ten minutes when he finally seemed to stop. Up until then the only sounds heard in the room were Blink's coughing and a few supportive remarks made by the other guys. When the coughing ceased Kid Blink struggled to take full, deep breaths without another assault of coughs beginning. One last, short attack started and ended abruptly and Mush kept an arm securely around Blink's shoulder when he swayed a bit and almost fell off of the bunk.  
  
As the coughing stopped Jack whispered, barely daring to break the silence, "Kid, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Kid Blink was staring at a card that lay at the end of the bunk he was sitting on. He looked up when Jack addressed him with a pale look on his face. He brought the rag away from his face to reveal a dark, crimson stain where it had covered his mouth.  
  
Hotshot was behind a few of the taller boys and struggled to push her way through when she heard Jack whisper, "What the hell?"  
  
She pushed Skittery and Dutchy and they let her through. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Kid Blink. The bright eyed and excited newsie that had greeted her when she had first come to the lodging house over a month before was almost the total opposite. His skin was a pasty white and his eyes were dull and lifeless. He looked as though if Mush weren't holding him up he would fall over. When she saw the blood on the cloth she found her breath caught in her throat.  
  
"No," she whispered, "Not him. This can't be happening."  
  
"Brooke," Jack used her real name, "What's wrong with him?"  
  
"He has tuberculosis," Saying it seemed to make it all real and her brain started functioning again, "Shit, we have to get him to a hospital. Someone get Kloppman." When no one moved she yelled, "Now!!!"  
  
"Is it dangerous," Jack asked as a few others went running and Mush lowered Kid blink to the bed.  
  
"Not only is it dangerous," Hotshot said, "It kills almost everyone who has it."  
  
A/N: Heehee cliffhanger. Read and review if ya want some more. 


	11. Getting In and Getting Caught

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 11

By Megan

Kloppman came bounding up the stairs after Snipeshooter and Boots, who'd been sent to find him. He came into the room to find more of the newsies in an assortment of different places. Jack was helping Kid Blink put his shirt on. Most of the other boys were either scattered in a small semicircle around him, or finding a shirt to put on. Hotshot walked quickly out of the bathroom and placed a damp cloth of Kid Blink's head. "What's going on?" Kloppman asked.

Hotshot turned to the older man, "Kid Blink has tuberculosis. We have to get him to the hospital."

"Tuberculosis," Kloppman remembered an epidemic that had left him the only surviving member of his family. He looked at Kid Blink and found him looking similar to the way his own younger brother had looked before he died. "I'll stay here for the others. Get him there as fast as you can. I'll leave the doors open."

"Thanks Kloppman," Hotshot, turned to the other boys in the room, "Mush, Bumlets, get him up. Snipeshooter, Boots, and Crutchy, you stay here and tell the others. Boots run and tell Dave's parents he's going to be home late tonight.

Boots jumped out into the fire escape and disappeared as Bumlets lifted Kid Blink off of the bed. Kid didn't put up a fight at all and was too weak to do anything but lie there. Specs was just finishing explaining to Jack that he'd seen Kid Blink throw up blood a week earlier. He felt like he was completely to blame for everything. She motioned for Jack to start bringing them to the hospital. He led them out of the room as she took Specs' face in her hands. "I don't care what you think. This is not your fault. He wouldn't have listened to any of us. You know that." She took a deep breath, "Do you wanna stay here or come to the hospital?"

"Hospital," Specs said and the two of them ran after their friends.

It was impossible for newsies to get a ride in Manhattan so they had to walk the entire way. Mush and Bumlets took turns carrying Kid Blink who had seemed to lose the ability to stand, much less walk.

As they entered the large building the receptionist looked up from her paperwork, "Can I help you?"

Jack spoke for them, "Our friend has tuberculosis. He needs to see a doctor now."

She looked them over, "How will you be paying?"

"I don't know but we'll pay."

"We can't admit him if you can't pay the bill." The woman said, "I'm very sorry."

Hotshot pushed her way to the front of the group. She knew that what she was about to do probably would get her caught but Kid Blink's life was at risk so it was worth it. "Excuse me," she said, "I am Brooke Maria Lynn, the daughter of Christian Lynn." 

The young receptionist gasped. Even with Christian in jail he was still highly respected and the young girl in front of the desk looked too mush like him to be lying. "What can I do for you Miss Lynn?" she spoke with great respect.

"I would like my friend to be admitted to this hospital. I will be paying his bills. Please get him the best doctor possible."

"What is his name?"

"Excuse me?"

"I can see that he is a newsie Miss, but we need his real name to admit him."

"Gimme a minute," she turned to the other newsies, "What's his real name?"

Nobody knew.

She turned to Bumlets and took Kid Blink's face in her hands, "Kid, you need to tell me your real name."

His eyes seemed somewhat blurry, but not as much as before, "Trey Parker," he said weakly.

"Trey Parker," she told the nurse. Within minutes they were rolling him into a room on a stretcher and telling the newsies to wait in the waiting room. It was then that Hotshot finally realized that she was only wearing a tank top. Most of the guys were only wearing an undershirt or a buttoned shirt. Jack noticed her predicament at the same time and took off his outer shirt. She pulled it on and buttoned it up. If the bulls came in she'd look somewhat like a boy. 

A few hours later the receptionist called for two or three of them to come over. Hotshot, Jack, and David walked over. "Mr. Parker is resting comfortably. The doctors are trying everything possible. It would have been better if it were caught earlier but he still has a good chance." She then turned to Hotshot, "Miss Lynn, two detectives from the police department were notified when you arrived. Our security section has been ordered to keep you here until they arrive. Would you please follow me to our private lounge."

Jack and Hotshot merely exchanged a glance, unnoticeable to the hospital employees, but the glance told Hotshot the entire plan. She bolted out the door with Jack yelling after her, "Brooke, come back!" They'd all reverted to calling her by her real name at the hospital for safety reasons. She spotted the two detectives walking toward the hospital and prayed the shadows of twilight would keep her hidden enough, but one of the hospitals security guards was yelling to them. 

"Come back!" one of them yelled after her. The other threatened to shoot if she didn't stop. She heard the shot seconds later and felt it hit the ground inches from her foot. She took a shortcut through the alleys that Kid Blink had taught her to get to David's house. Jack had told her to hide there. She climbed the fire escape and tapped on the window. 

Les was closest to it and threw it open. "How's Kid Blink?" he asked as she climbed inside and shut the window behind her. 

"I dunno, Les, they're working at him back at the hospital." She said, and then turned to Mr. And Mrs. Jacobs, "Can I please stay here tonight. The bulls were at the hospital looking for me. They're billing me for Kid Blink's treatment but if I go they'll send me back to my uncle. Jack's gonna bring David back to the lodging house tonight and we'll figure the rest out tomorrow." 

"Of course," Mrs. Jacobs said, "There's an extra bed in Sarah's room." 

Sarah took Hotshot into her room and Hotshot explained everything that had happened. By the end she looked ready to cry but bit her lip to keep from doing so.

"You know someone who died of it, don't you?" Sarah asked.

Hotshot nodded, "Misery, one of the first newsies I met in Brooklyn. I was still with my stepfather after he died. I found out everything I could about it. I knew all the symptoms, but I didn't see them in Kid Blink."

"Don't be hard on yourself, everyone knows how he tries to hide things," Sarah sensed that Hotshot wanted to change the subject, "Isn't that Jack's shirt you're wearing?"

"Yeah, you can tell I'm a girl if I don't wear something baggy so he lent it to me at the hospital."

Their conversation lasted for a while longer, until Hotshot fell asleep. For the first time in months her sleep was plagued with nightmares. She tossed and turned all night, and oddly still felt awake in the morning. The final dream she had that night was horrible. Jonathan was standing over her, whip in hand, with a cruel smile on his face. She was the same age she really was, not still twelve in the dream. He tapped his whip against his hand a few times before launching himself at her. Every time he hit her a shot of pain seemed to burn her back. She rolled over and put a hand up to stop him. The whip was replaced with a heavy cane. He brought it down hard on her skull.

She practically jumped as she sat up in bed. How could he still torment her if he was already dead? The numerous scars along her back burned, more than they had since she'd received them. She calmed down and pushed the blankets off of her. Before she got out of bed she listened. She could hear numerous people in the kitchen, too many to just be the Jacobs. She peered around the doorframe and found the Jacobs in addition to Jack, Specs, Skittery, and Race, seated in the kitchen.

"Hey, look who's up," Skittery said, grinning.

She walked into the kitchen to join them and found that they filled all of the seats. She stopped and stood between David and Specs. When Mrs. Jacobs offered her breakfast she politely refused, "So what're we gonna do?" She asked.

"For once," Jack admitted, "I have absolutely no idea."

"I can turn myself in." She spoke slowly and quietly, cutting off Jack's protest, "Run to another city or find somewhere to hide." 

The group of them that were there thought over the choices. "Do ya wanna run?" Jack asked.

She looked up and met his eyes with a defiant look across her face, "I don't know." She turned to the others, "What do you think?"

"She should stay at Medda's and sell with us," Specs said, "Me and Race can watch her."

"Yeah," Race said, "I don' mind strayin' from the races for a few weeks."

"Dat ain't a bad idea, Jack." Skittery said to Jack's uncertain face.

Jack turned to David, "Whatta you think?"

"She should stay here instead. That way me or Les'll be able to watch her at night."

He turned, "Hotshot..."

"It'll work," she said grimly, "But I think I'd better look for a lawyer in case I get caught."

Jack, Dave, and Sarah exchanged a glance and Jack spoke for them, "Get ready to go. I might know a guy."

She was ready a few minutes later and they walked to a large apartment building. Jack knocked on the door and quietly said, "I hope he's home."

Hotshot nodded and pulled her hat tighter onto her head. Specs put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "You can trust him." Race, Dave, and Skittery also offered encouraging remarks. The door opened a moment later, revealing a man that seemed to be in his mid to late twenties. He smiled warmly when he saw the newsies.

"Hello boys. How are you?"

"Hey Denton," Jack said, "Can we come in?"

He opened the door wider and ushered them inside, "What can I do for you?"

Jack smiled, "Let's sit down. I got a lot to fill you in on." They all took seats around a large table in the center of the room. "So Denton, it's nice to see you back from the war nice an' safe."

"Jack, get to the point. Why are you here?" Denton was to the point.

"You remember David, Specs, Skittery, and Race."

Denton nodded.

"This is Hotshot, who knows it is polite to take off one's hat in the presence of someone older." Hotshot glared at him but took off her hat. Denton gasped. "She might need you's help Denton." Jack told him. He filled her in on her basic past, "Can you help her? You told us you had some training in law."

"I might be able to but there are a lot of people better than me."

"I just need a co-council," Hotshot interrupted, "I can do most of it myself."

"Oh really," Denton looked at her, "How?"

"My father was a lawyer. He taught me."

"Who's your father?"

"Christian Lynn." She said it as if it were no big deal.

"You're Brooke Lynn?" When she only nodded he spoke, "Alright, I'll help. You should give me first chair. The jury won't listen to someone your age."

"Alright."

They worked it out and brought Brooke's things to David's house. She left them on the extra bed in Sarah's room. The worst part about the plan was that she couldn't go to the hospital and relied on the others stories about Kid Blink to find out how he was doing.

* * *

"I'll give each of you double a months pay if you can catch her." The man told the three newsies. One of them was from Brooklyn and the other two were Manhattan natives. All three nodded in approval. They'd agreed because each of them had a bone to pick with the target of their kidnapping.

"If she fights do we have permission to beat her a bit?" the one with the bandaged nose asked.

"Go ahead. She deserves whatever you give her."

"Yeah, she does." The older, and just as battered, taller version of the first speaker replied.

"Hush, both of you." The Brooklyn newsie silenced them both, "We'll have her back to you by tomorrow night Mr. Pulitzer." He promised.

As the three of them left the two brothers snarled, "We'll get her good for what she done to us," the elder said, "She'll never know what hit her."

"If he wasn't payin' us so much I'd be just as content leavin' her in the streets to die," his brother said, "I ain't gonna rest 'til I get her and Davey back for what they did."

"Then they deserve what's coming to them." Oscar hissed, "Too bad we ain't bein' paid to do it to all the newsies."

"I'd be in heaven if they asked us to do that, but remember I get first dibs on beating her up."

"Both of you shut your mouths," the Brooklyn newsie whispered harshly, "You are just there to create a diversion and get her into that alley. She's all mine after that, and you can have her when I'm done. I'll get revenge for what she did to me. No girl will ever want to be a newsie after I make and example out of her." The glare in his eye was the only thing that kept the scabs from saying something back. They knew he was from Brooklyn, and therefore, could probably kill them.

"Yes," he said, "I'll get my revenge on you Hotshot. Just you wait." 

* * *

The next morning Specs and Race met Hotshot and David at the distribution office. They had promised Jack that they would sell with her and were determined to keep their promise. When she saw them waiting after they bough their papes she groaned. Jack had trusted her enough to let her sell before. She should have known he'd pair her up with someone again.

"So where we sellin' taday fellas?" she asked.

"The races." Racetrack suggested.

Specs gave him a look, "Another reason you're here is to keep you from going there for a while," he warned Race, "We aren't going there."

Race pouted as they walked down the street selling papers. It made him look even younger than he was and made it easier for him to sell papes. 

"If you concentrated half as much on your bets as you do on your selling you might actually have some extra money," she told him.

"So could you," Race shot back, "but you still play poker with me every night dontcha?" 

She raised an eyebrow, he was as quick as Spot when it came to comebacks. She turned to Specs, "Has he always been this difficult?"

"As long as I known him he has," he said selling a few papers to an older woman, "An I'm pretty sure he's been like it long as he'd been able to talk."

"I have pity on whoever raised him," she said.

"An' I have pity on whoever raise you," Race said, "Dear me you must have been a difficult child to raise."

She shrugged off his comment, "So how's Kid?"

Specs looked away, "He ain't doin' so hot. He had a bunch a coughing fits last night and passed out after the last one. He really wishes you could come and see him an' boy did he apologize to Jack yestaday. They was in there alone for half and hour." 

"He'd better get better," Race said.

Hotshot merely nodded in agreement. She didn't think she could take another friend dying from the horrible disease, "So was anyone else around the boarding house sick at all?" 

Specs shook his head as he and Hotshot stopped to sell papers to a large group of people. Race kept walking ahead of them, "No they're all fine. Some of them were really scared though. Sarah told Jack that her parents were sort of bothered by the fact that David and Les might be exposed to it." The group they had been selling to had moved on by this point they had caught up with Race.

They sold the rest of the morning papers and got the afternoon edition. They used the same tactics to sell. Race usually walked ahead of them and the other two would talk about various subjects. When they were down to a few papers each Specs and Hotshot stopped walking completely. Race walked ahead of them yelling headlines. 

"So what'll you do if you get caught?" Specs asked.

"Run," she said, "It's really the only thing I can do. What would you do if they caught me?" She wanted to see how much he really cared about her, "What would you do to help me?"

Before he could answer a loud crash was heard in the direction Race had walked off in. The two of them sprinted to an alleyway and looked down it. Oscar and Maurice stood over Racetrack who was huddled on the ground, nursing some kind of injury and trying to protect himself. The Delancy's took off.

"See to Race," Hotshot said as she started after them, but Specs was right behind her. She stopped herself and him, "I can handle them. See to Racetrack."

He looked at her hesitantly for a moment before following her orders. Hotshot ran in the direction the Delancy's had taken. When she reached a dead end she stopped and turned around, "Come out scabs," she said.

They slowly came out of their hiding place, "Not so tough by yourself are you, Sweetface." Oscar commented. She flipped her foot forward and kicked him in the jaw. A cry of pain escaped him. Because he and Maurice were in such bad shape after their last fight she knocked them both out within a minute. 

She turned to go back to Specs and Race but a hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up and gasped, "Mitchell."

He laughed, "You thought you could just come and take over, didn't you. Thought you were better than any boy in New York. If it wasn't for you I would be the leader a Brooklyn, not Spot." He tightened his grip on her arm, "Whatta you got to say for yourself?"

"Well thank God I was there then, 'cause if I hadn't been you would a ruined the place." She tried to flip away from him but he was ready. He brought his fist down hard against her back and she cried out. He took firm hold of her and began dragging her in the direction of the richer section of town. "No," she shouted, "You can't bring me back there." 

He only laughed as she struggled more.

Specs and Race by this time had reached the alley. They knew they could not take on Mitchell so they kept to the shadows and followed them. She was still yelling as Mitchell dragged her into a large mansion. "Race, you good enough to go back to the lodging house and tell 'em what happened."

"Yeah."

"Good, go and tell them I'll meet you guys at Tibby's tomorrow around noon." Racetrack took off and Specs climbed the fence and hid against the house. He'd watched to see what room she was in and made a decision to go in the next morning. He was also surprise by the name on her uncle's fence. Her uncle was none other than Joseph Pulitzer. "Oh Brooke," he whispered. 


	12. Welcome back BrookeLynn

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 12

By Megan 

            Instead of being brought to her uncle's office when she entered the mansion Mitchell gave her to some of the servants, and she was brought to her room.  They closed the door behind her and locked her in.  She beat on the door and let a string of curses it Spanish and English flow from her mouth.  After a minute she ran to the window and found it locked.  "Ugh!" she groaned collapsing on the bed.  The knock came at the door a few minutes later.  "Go away!" she yelled.

            "You have such a temper," a familiar voice responded as the door opened and closed.

            "Rosa," Brooke jumped up and hugged the older woman, "It's so good to see you again.  Please tell me you have good news?"

            "I can't get you out."  At this Brooke slouched back onto the bed, "You will see your uncle tomorrow morning, and if you want I can go pick you up some new clothes."  She glanced at Brooke's ripped and stained newsie clothes.

            Brooke thought for a second.  If she was here she might as well be comfortable, "Get something like what I'm wearing?"

            "I'll have it by eight o clock tomorrow morning, now do you want some dinner?"

            "No," Brooke insisted.  She'd been starving before, but being in a place she hated so much took away her appetite.

            "I'll see you in the morning then."  Rosa left the room and locked the door behind her.  Brooke didn't hate her for it.  It was Pulitzer's orders.  She sat down on her bed and looked around, smiling when she found her books.  She picked one up and read until she fell asleep.

            Specs leaned against the side of the house as the newsie that had brought Hotshot in left.  It was the same one who had beaten him up twice in Brooklyn.  He wanted more than anything to go and just attack the newsie for information but restrained himself.  He had to get Hotshot out before he did anything else.  For now he found himself waiting until morning to climb up to her window.  He brought his head back to rest against the brick wall and drifted to sleep.  

            Brooke woke up at Brooklyn time the next morning.  Rosa was walking around her room, "What are you doing?"

            "I'm figuring out the sizes I need to buy.  You've grown since the last time I bought clothes for you.  What on earth are you doing up so early?"

            "I'm used to it," she yawned.

            "Well try to get some more sleep, and if you can't clean up this room a little," Rosa left the room.

            Brooke got up and began to sort through everything that was on the floor.  She shoved some boxes under her bed and placed two books back on the bookshelf.  Next she went to the closet and opened it, hoping there would be something decent.  She sighed when she found all that was in there were dresses.  She pulled on her newsie clothes from the day before and sat on her bed, thinking of how boring life had always been in this house.  Just as she was beginning to fall back asleep there was a loud rap on the window.  She opened one eye and nearly rolled off the bed when she saw Specs sitting on a tree outside.  She reached for the lock so she could try to pick it but found it already unlocked, thanks to Rosa as usual.  She pulled the window open, "What are you doing here?"

            He jumped inside and wrapped his arms around her, "Are you alright?"

            "I'm fine.  Were you out there all night?"

            "Yeah, Race is fine.  I'm supposed to meet the fellas at Tibby's around noon," At this point he paused for a second, "Why didn't you tell us who he was?"

            "We sell his paper in the city where it's made and where he lives.  I never would have seen the outside of the lodging house.  You know Jack would have locked me in."

            Specs nodded.  She was right; Jack would have made her stay inside.  He'd done it to the others when the bulls were looking for them.  Once he kept Bumlets and Kid Blink inside for a week.  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, "Alright, how are we gonna get you outta here?"

            "I-" she was cut off by a knock at the door. 

 Before either of them could move Rosa opened the door and came in.  She was carrying a bag of clothes for Brooke and set them down on the bed.  "Would you like to introduce me to your friend?"  She looked Brooke straight in the eye as she spoke.

She motioned for Specs to calm down, as he was ready to jump out the window.  "Rosa this is Specs, Specs this is Rosa.  Thank you so much." She picked up the bag of clothes.

"Are you planning on helping her get out of this house?" Rosa asked Specs, "Legally?"

Specs nodded, "We got her a lawyer yesterday.  I'm sort of here to find out what she wants to do. And 'cause I'se her friend."

Rosa nodded in approval, "Then you and me have some talking to do, Brooke go take a shower and change into those clothes.  Your uncle wants to see you in an hour."  Despite Brooke's protest she ushered the younger girl into the bathroom and then sat down across the room from Specs.  "Go to the front door and just wait.  When the butler opens the door he will bring you to Mr. Pulitzer's office.  Brooke will be there already.  If this is going to sound serious she'll need someone to back her up."

"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" he accused.

Rosa smiled, "I saw you follow them in and run around the side of the house last night."  

The two went over more details of the plan while Brooke showered and dressed.  When she came out she looked muck more awake and comfortable.  She wore a gray pair of Capri's and a darker shirt under a black one that was unbuttoned over it.  The clothes showed off her figure a little more than her old clothes.  To add to it her hair was not pulled up into a tight ponytail on top of her head.  She could now let it frame her face.  Specs raised an eyebrow.  Before he'd liked her because of her personality but she didn't look half bad.  He was far too used to seeing everyone covered in dirt.

"What about his clothes?" Rosa asked, breaking Specs out of his trance.  He looked down at his clothes.  He wore a scuffed pair of boots, dark pants, a dark vest that was a different shade of brown from the pants, and dark brown, almost black suspenders.  A lot of newsies wore dark colors to hide stains from dirt.  His white shirt showed a few spots that had gotten dirty the previous day.  He held his black fedora in his hand.  "Maybe he would fit into some of your brother's old clothes." She suggested.

"He's fine," Brooke insisted, she wanted her uncle to see them like they really were.  If he saw her with Specs, who didn't look like he wore clean clothes everyday, he would be incredibly mad, and that just gave her more of an advantage.  "Give us a few minutes?" she asked.

Rosa nodded, "I'll be back in ten to get you."  She closed the door behind her.

"How do you want me to act?" Specs asked, "Should I talk like a newsie or normal?"

Her face told him something he said had just triggered something in her head.  "Talk like a newsie, but don't overdo it.  And call me Hotshot not Brooke"

Specs nodded in understanding.  So exactly what are you trying to do in court?"

"Trying to get emancipation.  The earliest age you can get it is sixteen.  I had the papers drawn up when I was eleven.  Damn, they're in my dad's office back in Brooklyn."

"Gimme the key and I'll go get them," Specs offered.

"I would," she said, "But Andres was the one who had the key to the office.  He gave it to one of his friends before he died but I don't know whom."

"We'll figure that out later.  Just don't get yourself in too much trouble down there."  With that he started toward the window, "Oh, how together do you want him to think we are?"

"Not dating, just really good friends.  I'm planning something for court so he can't think we're too involved."

"Gotcha," he climbed out the window and down the tree as Rosa came back to the room.  She led Brooke downstairs, to her uncle's office.  

 His back was turned when she entered.  "Sit," was all he said.  She slouched in a chair and watched him with a Spot-like glare as he tuned around.  He frowned in disapproval but said nothing, "So we finally found you.  I hear you've been quite the traveler young lady.  All over New York they say; Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Harlem."

"Well don' believe everything ya hear," she left enough of a newsie accent to bother him and added a few adjectives in Spanish.

"Let's not start that again Brooke.  I'd rather not be forced to let Jonathan punish you, though I can't say you don't deserve it."

"Jonathan's dead." She spat.

"No my dear child he is still alive.  When you asked me if he died I merely never said he had.  He has his own room right down the hall from you."  His face told he was telling the truth.

"And Andres? Is he alive too?"  Her tone was believing but bitter.

Before Pulitzer could answer a servant stuck his head in the door, "A guest for you Mr. Pulitzer." He said. As Specs came into the room Brooke acted like she hadn't seen him in weeks.  "Specs, how are you?" she said standing to greet him.

He gave her a light hug and kiss on the cheek, "Not bad.  Mornin' Mr. Pulitzer."  

Pulitzer only nodded, "Can I help you?"  He was ready to throw the boy out on the street.  He didn't look as filthy as some of the other newsies but you could tell he was poor.  He also remembered the boy from the newspaper article about the newsies.  He'd been standing right behind Jack.

"As I'm sure you know by now I am askin' the court for emancipation." Brooke said, "Jack sent Specs here to keep an eye on me and get my lawyer if I asked."

"You can't be serious," Pulitzer was shocked.

"More serious than ever.  I'se not goin' ta let you or Jonathan control my life any longer, and I most certainly will not marry Daniel Taylor or give you my father's company.  I have a lawyer who can begin getting a hearing this afternoon.  The servants already know Specs and my lawyer are able to visit me at all times."

"Very well,"  Pulitzer looked the boy over again.  He was scrawny and weak looking, though extremely tall.  Poor boy must have lived there his whole life he thought.  "Mr. um, Specs?  My lawyer will be here shortly.  I suggest you fetch Brooke's lawyer and send him over later this afternoon.  Good day."  

"I'll send Denton over," Specs promised his friend.  He kissed her cheek once more and allowed a servant to lead him outside.  As he walked down the stairs he noticed two men coming up.  The one farther away was a boy about his age in high-class clothing, Daniel Taylor.  As he passed them he ran into the older man.  

"Watch where you're going, boy!" the man yelled at him.

Specs froze for a second and then began walking away more quickly than before.  He'd gotten a glimpse of the man's face and his voice had almost given Specs a heart attack.  His father was Pulitzer's lawyer.  He ran to Tibby's where the others were waiting for him.  Everyone was shocked as Specs had been when they found out who her uncle was.

"That's why she wasn't here with Spot during the strike," David realized.

They found Denton and began compiling ideas for court.  Racetrack and David were sent to Brooklyn to round up some of Spot's gang, and fill Spot in on what happened.

*            *            *

"W'es need ta see Spot." Racetrack told the first Brooklyn newsie he saw on the dock, "Do you know where he is?"

"The loft.  Playing poker." Was all he said.

David and Racetrack both made a mad dash toward the building and climbed the ladder inside.  They reached the top to fine Spot playing poker with Roman, Royal, and Swinger.  Spot looked up, most likely expecting to see some of his own newsies.  When he saw Race and David he knew something was wrong.  "Where is she?"

"Mitchell and the Delancy's caught her an' brought her to his house," Race told him, "I swear ta God I saw it with me own eyes."

"Does she have a lawyer and everything?"  Spot had known her plan for a long time and wanted to get right down to business on this subject.

"Yeah, but Denton says we need some Brooklyn newsies to come up to the court." David told him, "Can you round up a group of them in an hour?"

"Yeah, Lockpick, call a meeting now!"  A newsie sitting by the door was up and gone in a flash.  Twenty minutes later they walked downstairs to find the dock crowded with Brooklyn newsies.

"I'd say, pick your best and leave some here,"  Race said, "You guys might be in Manhattan for a while."

"Alright," Spot began to make a mental list.  "If I call your name come up here," He told them, "Hotshot got caught and we need some a us to go help her in court. Understood?"  Only nods were the reply

"Pickpocket, Roman, Royal, Swinger, Wiser, Scruff, Ace, Cover, Caps, Aqua, Scorpion, Virgo, Libra, and Starburst.  You're coming to Manhattan 'cept Scorpion.  Can you stay and lead while I'se gone?"

Scorpion nodded, "I can handle 'em."

"See you in a week or two,"  With that Spot led the large group through the streets.  They arrived at a large building and he stopped them and turned to Race and Dave, "One more guy, c'mon in."

"Who lives here?" Race asked.

"Rebel," Spot said the name with great respect, "He'll wanna know about this."  He knocked on an apartment door.  It opened to reveal and older and wiser looking Rebel.

"Heya Spottie," he allowed the three of them to enter the room.

"I'se sorry to say I'se here on business matters."

"I kinda figured when I saw a dozen newsies gatherin' outside me building."

"Dave, you can explain."

"Well," he stepped foreward nervously, like the first time he'd talked to Spot, "Hotshot got caught and her lawyer thinks we should get some of the Brooklyn newsies she used to sell with to come up to Manhattan and help defend her.  Spot thought you could be of some help."  He looked worried as Spot and Rebel exchanged a glance, sharing a secret.  

"What is this Spot, some kinda walk-in-mouth?"

"Dat's exactly what I call him.  So you in?"

He nodded, "I'll meet you guys downstairs in two minutes."

Spot shooed the two Manhattan newsies downstairs and followed Rebel into his room where he was packing.  "You know she's gonna try it," he said, "The minute she gets emancipation or even 'fore that she'll reopen her dad's case.  What're we gonna do when she does?"

"We's gonna keep our mouths shut jus' like las' time," Rebel said as he violently shoved a few items of clothing into his bag.

"But Reb, We know it was that otha guy who did it, not Hotshot's dad.  We gotta help her.  They'll believe you, Reb, you's a respected adult now."

Rebel suddenly turned and grabbed Spot by the coller.  He slammed Spot hard into the wall, "It ain't any a our business, alright.  We weren't even supposed to be there.  You an' me escaped from the refuge.  They can still punish us for that.  You can only get sent to the refuge for a week and your boys'll hide you 'till they stop lookin', but me, I can lose my job and get thrown in prison.  We's newsies Spot.  The bulls will never believe us and I'd kill someone 'fore I go back to jail, 'specially because a something I wasn't supposed to see.   I don' care, all I wanna do is keep me job and me new life, so we's gonna keep our mouths shut!"  As if to emphasize the point he shoved Spot hard into the wall again, "Understood!"

"Yes."  As Rebel released the younger boy Spot slid down the wall so he was sitting on the floor.  Rebel had never hit him the entire time he'd been a newsie, except a few occasions, and had only spoken that harshly to him right after the 'incident' as they called it.  It unnerved him that Rebel had changed, and he found himself almost scared of the older boy in front of him.  He glanced at Rebel, who was packing the last of his things.  He seemed to be trying to keep himself from shaking.  He kept the traditional blank face on as he came over to Spot, "I'se sorry." He helped the younger boy stand.  Spot was somewhat confused; Rebel was the only Brooklyn newsie who never used the blank face.  The only times he ever used it were when he was trying not to cry or scared senseless.  It almost comforted him to know he wasn't alone.

Minutes later the two were out on the street walking to Manhattan with the other newsies.  Rebel allowed Spot to take over the role of leader even though he was older.  He was glad to see that Spot was a strict but fair leader, similar to himself.  Any arguments that started were immediately and fairly ended.  Thanks to Racetrack Rebel got a demonstration of Spot's improved leadership abilities.

Before they reached the bridge there was an explosion of noise from the back of the group.  Even after the entire group stopped the yelling did not.  Spot walked to the back of the group to find Racetrack standing in front of Roman, one of the most threatening looking Brooklyn newsies.  He was practically shaking with anger and yelled, "Take it back now!"

"No!  I don't take ordas from you!"

"Oh yeah I forgot, scabs don't take ordas from nobody but the officers," At this everyone gasped.  To call any normal newsie, especially in New York, a scab was one of the biggest insults.

Just as the two began to charge at each other Spot stepped in.  He grabbed Racetrack by the back of his collar and put a hand up, motioning for Roman to stop.  "What is goin' on here?  Racetrack?"  He turned to the shorter newsie first.

"He called me a midget an' I told him ta take it back."  Race plainly stated trying to pull out of Spot's grip.

"Well you called me a scab," Roman shot back, "An' you is real short."

"Roman, we are goin' to Manhattan for a few weeks, possibly more.  You need to show these boys the same respect you show otha Brooklyn newsies.  Watch the insults." 

"Sorry Race," Roman said.  Race only nodded in reply.

Spot then turned to Race, "He doesn't mean half of what he says so ignore his insults.  He could beat you wit' one arm tied behind his back.  Now go walk wit' Dave."  When each of them stared at him he gave them the superior glare he was famous for.

The look made Rebel smile.  When one of his newsies had brought Spot to the pier he'd looked at Rebel with the exact same glare.  It demanded respect and threatened extreme punishments.  Spot had only been four or five at the time but the glare had gotten Rebel's attention.  He'd taken Spot under his wing and taught him everything he knew so he'd be able to be a good leader after Rebel left.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and they reached the Manhattan lodging house shortly before dark.  Denton was still at Pulitzer's mansion but Jack got them all bunks in the main bunkroom.  There was plenty of room if you moved the nonimpotant newsies (Not on main cast list) to other rooms.  Denton came back at seven to find a room full of eager newsies and Sarah.

"They aren't going let her go on her own so we're going to court."  He took the chair that was vacated by Mush.  "They're not very busy at the moment so the hearing is on Monday morning at 9am, that's two days from now.  If you're going to come there will be a sheet outside for you to sign in.  Use your real names.  I need all of you to give me them now."  He handed Jack a piece of paper that already had Kid Blinks name on it.  Jack hesitated, unsure of what to write.  "Just put Jack Kelly," Denton told him, "I know you boys don't like using your real names but they need proper names to be used.  How is Kid Blink?"

"Bad," Bumlets said.  He'd visited the fellow newsie just an hour before, "He had four attacks before they kicked me out an' he could barely sit up."

Denton nodded, "Back to the case.  Pulitzer's lawyer is Nathaniel Edwards.  He's one of the best lawyers in New York, but there are enough of you that I feel we actually have a chance.  Hotshot wants as many of you there as possible and if you go Kloppman is giving you free board that night.  I'm only allowing the newsies in this room to go so if anyone else needs to be there get them to sign this sheet.  Anything else?"

"How is she?"

Denton looked at Specs, "We confirmed that her stepfather is alive and she's scared about having to face him again, but she is as good a lawyer as her father so she has a few tricks up her sleeve."

As the rest of the boys filled out their newsie names and real ones on the sheet Denton explained some of the court proceedings.  When he left an hour later they all knew there was a possibility that they could be put on the stand.  Race and Spot had been warned not to be the smart asses they had been the last time they'd stood before a judge.  All of them knew to keep out of trouble and keep an eye on Kid Blink for Hotshot.  A little after eight a few newsies started small poker games around the room.  Specs took the opportunity to sneak out the fire escape.  He'd be back before anyone knew he was gone.

*            *            *

Hotshot sat in the empty office waiting for the man whom she was being forced to see.  It had been bad enough that she'd seen Pulitzer and Daniel that morning but having to see Jonathan after all the years she'd thought he was dead was almost too much.  She was barely able to resist the urge to jump out of her chair when the door opened.  She turned her head and stared at him with the emotionless stare that classified Brooklyn newsies.

Jonathan looked different but she knew his attitude probably hadn't changed.  His blondish hair was beginning to gray like his brother's, and he wore a pair of thin oval glasses.  His muscular frame had become thinner and his skin stretched gauntly over his bones.  The thing that stuck out most, however, was the long jagged scar that ran across his face.  She kept her voice as emotionless as her eyes when she spoke, "Jonathan."

He slapped her across the face before she could say anything else, "How dare you run off after that accident!  How dare you run from your uncle!  You could have had the perfect easy life here!  Why on earth did you run off to be a…" He spat the last word like it was poison, "newsie!"

"Betta than bein' 'round people like you" she shot back.

Out of nowhere there was a whip in his hand.  It struck her back once and she only inwardly winced.  Had she had her knife on her she would have had it out and slashed his face so fast he wouldn't have known what hit him.   He threw the whip down on the desk.  "Don't think you can get out of here that easily.  Think of this as a little reminder of what happens when you disobey me."  He began to walk to the door and she only stared after him from the place where she was standing.

"Tell me one thing; is my brother alive?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and slammed the door behind him.  Rosa brought her back to her room a few minutes later.  Rosa wanted to get water to clean up her fresh cut but Brooke sent her away.  The knock on the window a few minutes later was almost ignored but Brooke was pretty sure she knew who it was.  She opened the window and let Specs in, throwing her arms around him as soon as the window was closed.  "He's here Specs.  I saw him."

"Yeah, Denton told us at the lodging house.  Spot went dead white."

Hotshot almost laughed hearing it.  She pulled away from him and walked to her bed.  Specs almost choked when he saw her back.

"What happened?  Are you alright?"

"I'm fine he just whipped me."

"And hit your face too," Specs observed, "Hotshot, saying he whipped you is about the equivalent of Les Jacob's sayin' he got beaten up by the Delancy' bruthas."

"I'll live.  It's not like it's the first time or anything.  I barely feel it anymore.  How's Blink?"  She tried to change the subject.

"He's doin' worse than he was the other day," Specs admitted, "Maybe the judge'll let you see him."  He saw the pained look on her face.

"I need a favor," she said.

"Name it."

"Under my mattress back at the lodging house there's a bunch of my stuff and a bag under the bed.  Pack it up and bring it to me tomorrow."

"Alright,"

"One more thing.  There's a knife with a black hilt."

"What about it?"

"Don't bring that.  Keep it with you or ask Kloppman to keep it until I come back.  Just don't ever bring it here."

"Why not?"

"I usually carry it with me."

"So?"

"If I have it and I see Jonathan," she took a deep breath, "I might kill him."  She allowed Specs to pull her into his arms.

"If I can't get here tomorrow I'll send it with Denton."

"Okay, try to bring it if you can.  I've got another week before court stats so I could use the entertainment."

"Alright," he kissed her forehead as he climbed up onto the windowsill, "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Night Specs," she called out after him.

"Night," a voice came from the ground.

A/N: Well another chapter done.  Hope it's getting interesting for anyone who's reading it.  It's definitely getting harder to write.  I just wish more people would read it and review (HintHint) Anyway I'm trying to get chapters up faster but I've been deprived of the Internet until I bring my Spanish grade up.  TTYL!


	13. Sweet Revenge

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 12

By Megan 

            Instead of being brought to her uncle's office when she entered the mansion Mitchell gave her to some of the servants, and she was brought to her room.  They closed the door behind her and locked her in.  She beat on the door and let a string of curses it Spanish and English flow from her mouth.  After a minute she ran to the window and found it locked.  "Ugh!" she groaned collapsing on the bed.  The knock came at the door a few minutes later.  "Go away!" she yelled.

            "You have such a temper," a familiar voice responded as the door opened and closed.

            "Rosa," Brooke jumped up and hugged the older woman, "It's so good to see you again.  Please tell me you have good news?"

            "I can't get you out."  At this Brooke slouched back onto the bed, "You will see your uncle tomorrow morning, and if you want I can go pick you up some new clothes."  She glanced at Brooke's ripped and stained newsie clothes.

            Brooke thought for a second.  If she was here she might as well be comfortable, "Get something like what I'm wearing?"

            "I'll have it by eight o clock tomorrow morning, now do you want some dinner?"

            "No," Brooke insisted.  She'd been starving before, but being in a place she hated so much took away her appetite.

            "I'll see you in the morning then."  Rosa left the room and locked the door behind her.  Brooke didn't hate her for it.  It was Pulitzer's orders.  She sat down on her bed and looked around, smiling when she found her books.  She picked one up and read until she fell asleep.

            Specs leaned against the side of the house as the newsie that had brought Hotshot in left.  It was the same one who had beaten him up twice in Brooklyn.  He wanted more than anything to go and just attack the newsie for information but restrained himself.  He had to get Hotshot out before he did anything else.  For now he found himself waiting until morning to climb up to her window.  He brought his head back to rest against the brick wall and drifted to sleep.  

            Brooke woke up at Brooklyn time the next morning.  Rosa was walking around her room, "What are you doing?"

            "I'm figuring out the sizes I need to buy.  You've grown since the last time I bought clothes for you.  What on earth are you doing up so early?"

            "I'm used to it," she yawned.

            "Well try to get some more sleep, and if you can't clean up this room a little," Rosa left the room.

            Brooke got up and began to sort through everything that was on the floor.  She shoved some boxes under her bed and placed two books back on the bookshelf.  Next she went to the closet and opened it, hoping there would be something decent.  She sighed when she found all that was in there were dresses.  She pulled on her newsie clothes from the day before and sat on her bed, thinking of how boring life had always been in this house.  Just as she was beginning to fall back asleep there was a loud rap on the window.  She opened one eye and nearly rolled off the bed when she saw Specs sitting on a tree outside.  She reached for the lock so she could try to pick it but found it already unlocked, thanks to Rosa as usual.  She pulled the window open, "What are you doing here?"

            He jumped inside and wrapped his arms around her, "Are you alright?"

            "I'm fine.  Were you out there all night?"

            "Yeah, Race is fine.  I'm supposed to meet the fellas at Tibby's around noon," At this point he paused for a second, "Why didn't you tell us who he was?"

            "We sell his paper in the city where it's made and where he lives.  I never would have seen the outside of the lodging house.  You know Jack would have locked me in."

            Specs nodded.  She was right; Jack would have made her stay inside.  He'd done it to the others when the bulls were looking for them.  Once he kept Bumlets and Kid Blink inside for a week.  He shook his head to clear his thoughts, "Alright, how are we gonna get you outta here?"

            "I-" she was cut off by a knock at the door. 

 Before either of them could move Rosa opened the door and came in.  She was carrying a bag of clothes for Brooke and set them down on the bed.  "Would you like to introduce me to your friend?"  She looked Brooke straight in the eye as she spoke.

She motioned for Specs to calm down, as he was ready to jump out the window.  "Rosa this is Specs, Specs this is Rosa.  Thank you so much." She picked up the bag of clothes.

"Are you planning on helping her get out of this house?" Rosa asked Specs, "Legally?"

Specs nodded, "We got her a lawyer yesterday.  I'm sort of here to find out what she wants to do. And 'cause I'se her friend."

Rosa nodded in approval, "Then you and me have some talking to do, Brooke go take a shower and change into those clothes.  Your uncle wants to see you in an hour."  Despite Brooke's protest she ushered the younger girl into the bathroom and then sat down across the room from Specs.  "Go to the front door and just wait.  When the butler opens the door he will bring you to Mr. Pulitzer's office.  Brooke will be there already.  If this is going to sound serious she'll need someone to back her up."

"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" he accused.

Rosa smiled, "I saw you follow them in and run around the side of the house last night."  

The two went over more details of the plan while Brooke showered and dressed.  When she came out she looked muck more awake and comfortable.  She wore a gray pair of Capri's and a darker shirt under a black one that was unbuttoned over it.  The clothes showed off her figure a little more than her old clothes.  To add to it her hair was not pulled up into a tight ponytail on top of her head.  She could now let it frame her face.  Specs raised an eyebrow.  Before he'd liked her because of her personality but she didn't look half bad.  He was far too used to seeing everyone covered in dirt.

"What about his clothes?" Rosa asked, breaking Specs out of his trance.  He looked down at his clothes.  He wore a scuffed pair of boots, dark pants, a dark vest that was a different shade of brown from the pants, and dark brown, almost black suspenders.  A lot of newsies wore dark colors to hide stains from dirt.  His white shirt showed a few spots that had gotten dirty the previous day.  He held his black fedora in his hand.  "Maybe he would fit into some of your brother's old clothes." She suggested.

"He's fine," Brooke insisted, she wanted her uncle to see them like they really were.  If he saw her with Specs, who didn't look like he wore clean clothes everyday, he would be incredibly mad, and that just gave her more of an advantage.  "Give us a few minutes?" she asked.

Rosa nodded, "I'll be back in ten to get you."  She closed the door behind her.

"How do you want me to act?" Specs asked, "Should I talk like a newsie or normal?"

Her face told him something he said had just triggered something in her head.  "Talk like a newsie, but don't overdo it.  And call me Hotshot not Brooke"

Specs nodded in understanding.  So exactly what are you trying to do in court?"

"Trying to get emancipation.  The earliest age you can get it is sixteen.  I had the papers drawn up when I was eleven.  Damn, they're in my dad's office back in Brooklyn."

"Gimme the key and I'll go get them," Specs offered.

"I would," she said, "But Andres was the one who had the key to the office.  He gave it to one of his friends before he died but I don't know whom."

"We'll figure that out later.  Just don't get yourself in too much trouble down there."  With that he started toward the window, "Oh, how together do you want him to think we are?"

"Not dating, just really good friends.  I'm planning something for court so he can't think we're too involved."

"Gotcha," he climbed out the window and down the tree as Rosa came back to the room.  She led Brooke downstairs, to her uncle's office.  

 His back was turned when she entered.  "Sit," was all he said.  She slouched in a chair and watched him with a Spot-like glare as he tuned around.  He frowned in disapproval but said nothing, "So we finally found you.  I hear you've been quite the traveler young lady.  All over New York they say; Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Harlem."

"Well don' believe everything ya hear," she left enough of a newsie accent to bother him and added a few adjectives in Spanish.

"Let's not start that again Brooke.  I'd rather not be forced to let Jonathan punish you, though I can't say you don't deserve it."

"Jonathan's dead." She spat.

"No my dear child he is still alive.  When you asked me if he died I merely never said he had.  He has his own room right down the hall from you."  His face told he was telling the truth.

"And Andres? Is he alive too?"  Her tone was believing but bitter.

Before Pulitzer could answer a servant stuck his head in the door, "A guest for you Mr. Pulitzer." He said. As Specs came into the room Brooke acted like she hadn't seen him in weeks.  "Specs, how are you?" she said standing to greet him.

He gave her a light hug and kiss on the cheek, "Not bad.  Mornin' Mr. Pulitzer."  

Pulitzer only nodded, "Can I help you?"  He was ready to throw the boy out on the street.  He didn't look as filthy as some of the other newsies but you could tell he was poor.  He also remembered the boy from the newspaper article about the newsies.  He'd been standing right behind Jack.

"As I'm sure you know by now I am askin' the court for emancipation." Brooke said, "Jack sent Specs here to keep an eye on me and get my lawyer if I asked."

"You can't be serious," Pulitzer was shocked.

"More serious than ever.  I'se not goin' ta let you or Jonathan control my life any longer, and I most certainly will not marry Daniel Taylor or give you my father's company.  I have a lawyer who can begin getting a hearing this afternoon.  The servants already know Specs and my lawyer are able to visit me at all times."

"Very well,"  Pulitzer looked the boy over again.  He was scrawny and weak looking, though extremely tall.  Poor boy must have lived there his whole life he thought.  "Mr. um, Specs?  My lawyer will be here shortly.  I suggest you fetch Brooke's lawyer and send him over later this afternoon.  Good day."  

"I'll send Denton over," Specs promised his friend.  He kissed her cheek once more and allowed a servant to lead him outside.  As he walked down the stairs he noticed two men coming up.  The one farther away was a boy about his age in high-class clothing, Daniel Taylor.  As he passed them he ran into the older man.  

"Watch where you're going, boy!" the man yelled at him.

Specs froze for a second and then began walking away more quickly than before.  He'd gotten a glimpse of the man's face and his voice had almost given Specs a heart attack.  His father was Pulitzer's lawyer.  He ran to Tibby's where the others were waiting for him.  Everyone was shocked as Specs had been when they found out who her uncle was.

"That's why she wasn't here with Spot during the strike," David realized.

They found Denton and began compiling ideas for court.  Racetrack and David were sent to Brooklyn to round up some of Spot's gang, and fill Spot in on what happened.

*          *          *

"W'es need ta see Spot." Racetrack told the first Brooklyn newsie he saw on the dock, "Do you know where he is?"

"The loft.  Playing poker." Was all he said.

David and Racetrack both made a mad dash toward the building and climbed the ladder inside.  They reached the top to fine Spot playing poker with Roman, Royal, and Swinger.  Spot looked up, most likely expecting to see some of his own newsies.  When he saw Race and David he knew something was wrong.  "Where is she?"

"Mitchell and the Delancy's caught her an' brought her to his house," Race told him, "I swear ta God I saw it with me own eyes."

"Does she have a lawyer and everything?"  Spot had known her plan for a long time and wanted to get right down to business on this subject.

"Yeah, but Denton says we need some Brooklyn newsies to come up to the court." David told him, "Can you round up a group of them in an hour?"

"Yeah, Lockpick, call a meeting now!"  A newsie sitting by the door was up and gone in a flash.  Twenty minutes later they walked downstairs to find the dock crowded with Brooklyn newsies.

"I'd say, pick your best and leave some here,"  Race said, "You guys might be in Manhattan for a while."

"Alright," Spot began to make a mental list.  "If I call your name come up here," He told them, "Hotshot got caught and we need some a us to go help her in court. Understood?"  Only nods were the reply

"Pickpocket, Roman, Royal, Swinger, Wiser, Scruff, Ace, Cover, Caps, Aqua, Scorpion, Virgo, Libra, and Starburst.  You're coming to Manhattan 'cept Scorpion.  Can you stay and lead while I'se gone?"

Scorpion nodded, "I can handle 'em."

"See you in a week or two,"  With that Spot led the large group through the streets.  They arrived at a large building and he stopped them and turned to Race and Dave, "One more guy, c'mon in."

"Who lives here?" Race asked.

"Rebel," Spot said the name with great respect, "He'll wanna know about this."  He knocked on an apartment door.  It opened to reveal and older and wiser looking Rebel.

"Heya Spottie," he allowed the three of them to enter the room.

"I'se sorry to say I'se here on business matters."

"I kinda figured when I saw a dozen newsies gatherin' outside me building."

"Dave, you can explain."

"Well," he stepped foreward nervously, like the first time he'd talked to Spot, "Hotshot got caught and her lawyer thinks we should get some of the Brooklyn newsies she used to sell with to come up to Manhattan and help defend her.  Spot thought you could be of some help."  He looked worried as Spot and Rebel exchanged a glance, sharing a secret.  

"What is this Spot, some kinda walk-in-mouth?"

"Dat's exactly what I call him.  So you in?"

He nodded, "I'll meet you guys downstairs in two minutes."

Spot shooed the two Manhattan newsies downstairs and followed Rebel into his room where he was packing.  "You know she's gonna try it," he said, "The minute she gets emancipation or even 'fore that she'll reopen her dad's case.  What're we gonna do when she does?"

"We's gonna keep our mouths shut jus' like las' time," Rebel said as he violently shoved a few items of clothing into his bag.

"But Reb, We know it was that otha guy who did it, not Hotshot's dad.  We gotta help her.  They'll believe you, Reb, you's a respected adult now."

Rebel suddenly turned and grabbed Spot by the coller.  He slammed Spot hard into the wall, "It ain't any a our business, alright.  We weren't even supposed to be there.  You an' me escaped from the refuge.  They can still punish us for that.  You can only get sent to the refuge for a week and your boys'll hide you 'till they stop lookin', but me, I can lose my job and get thrown in prison.  We's newsies Spot.  The bulls will never believe us and I'd kill someone 'fore I go back to jail, 'specially because a something I wasn't supposed to see.   I don' care, all I wanna do is keep me job and me new life, so we's gonna keep our mouths shut!"  As if to emphasize the point he shoved Spot hard into the wall again, "Understood!"

"Yes."  As Rebel released the younger boy Spot slid down the wall so he was sitting on the floor.  Rebel had never hit him the entire time he'd been a newsie, except a few occasions, and had only spoken that harshly to him right after the 'incident' as they called it.  It unnerved him that Rebel had changed, and he found himself almost scared of the older boy in front of him.  He glanced at Rebel, who was packing the last of his things.  He seemed to be trying to keep himself from shaking.  He kept the traditional blank face on as he came over to Spot, "I'se sorry." He helped the younger boy stand.  Spot was somewhat confused; Rebel was the only Brooklyn newsie who never used the blank face.  The only times he ever used it were when he was trying not to cry or scared senseless.  It almost comforted him to know he wasn't alone.

Minutes later the two were out on the street walking to Manhattan with the other newsies.  Rebel allowed Spot to take over the role of leader even though he was older.  He was glad to see that Spot was a strict but fair leader, similar to himself.  Any arguments that started were immediately and fairly ended.  Thanks to Racetrack Rebel got a demonstration of Spot's improved leadership abilities.

Before they reached the bridge there was an explosion of noise from the back of the group.  Even after the entire group stopped the yelling did not.  Spot walked to the back of the group to find Racetrack standing in front of Roman, one of the most threatening looking Brooklyn newsies.  He was practically shaking with anger and yelled, "Take it back now!"

"No!  I don't take ordas from you!"

"Oh yeah I forgot, scabs don't take ordas from nobody but the officers," At this everyone gasped.  To call any normal newsie, especially in New York, a scab was one of the biggest insults.

Just as the two began to charge at each other Spot stepped in.  He grabbed Racetrack by the back of his collar and put a hand up, motioning for Roman to stop.  "What is goin' on here?  Racetrack?"  He turned to the shorter newsie first.

"He called me a midget an' I told him ta take it back."  Race plainly stated trying to pull out of Spot's grip.

"Well you called me a scab," Roman shot back, "An' you is real short."

"Roman, we are goin' to Manhattan for a few weeks, possibly more.  You need to show these boys the same respect you show otha Brooklyn newsies.  Watch the insults." 

"Sorry Race," Roman said.  Race only nodded in reply.

Spot then turned to Race, "He doesn't mean half of what he says so ignore his insults.  He could beat you wit' one arm tied behind his back.  Now go walk wit' Dave."  When each of them stared at him he gave them the superior glare he was famous for.

The look made Rebel smile.  When one of his newsies had brought Spot to the pier he'd looked at Rebel with the exact same glare.  It demanded respect and threatened extreme punishments.  Spot had only been four or five at the time but the glare had gotten Rebel's attention.  He'd taken Spot under his wing and taught him everything he knew so he'd be able to be a good leader after Rebel left.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and they reached the Manhattan lodging house shortly before dark.  Denton was still at Pulitzer's mansion but Jack got them all bunks in the main bunkroom.  There was plenty of room if you moved the nonimpotant newsies (Not on main cast list) to other rooms.  Denton came back at seven to find a room full of eager newsies and Sarah.

"They aren't going let her go on her own so we're going to court."  He took the chair that was vacated by Mush.  "They're not very busy at the moment so the hearing is on Monday morning at 9am, that's two days from now.  If you're going to come there will be a sheet outside for you to sign in.  Use your real names.  I need all of you to give me them now."  He handed Jack a piece of paper that already had Kid Blinks name on it.  Jack hesitated, unsure of what to write.  "Just put Jack Kelly," Denton told him, "I know you boys don't like using your real names but they need proper names to be used.  How is Kid Blink?"

"Bad," Bumlets said.  He'd visited the fellow newsie just an hour before, "He had four attacks before they kicked me out an' he could barely sit up."

Denton nodded, "Back to the case.  Pulitzer's lawyer is Nathaniel Edwards.  He's one of the best lawyers in New York, but there are enough of you that I feel we actually have a chance.  Hotshot wants as many of you there as possible and if you go Kloppman is giving you free board that night.  I'm only allowing the newsies in this room to go so if anyone else needs to be there get them to sign this sheet.  Anything else?"

"How is she?"

Denton looked at Specs, "We confirmed that her stepfather is alive and she's scared about having to face him again, but she is as good a lawyer as her father so she has a few tricks up her sleeve."

As the rest of the boys filled out their newsie names and real ones on the sheet Denton explained some of the court proceedings.  When he left an hour later they all knew there was a possibility that they could be put on the stand.  Race and Spot had been warned not to be the smart asses they had been the last time they'd stood before a judge.  All of them knew to keep out of trouble and keep an eye on Kid Blink for Hotshot.  A little after eight a few newsies started small poker games around the room.  Specs took the opportunity to sneak out the fire escape.  He'd be back before anyone knew he was gone.

*          *          *

Hotshot sat in the empty office waiting for the man whom she was being forced to see.  It had been bad enough that she'd seen Pulitzer and Daniel that morning but having to see Jonathan after all the years she'd thought he was dead was almost too much.  She was barely able to resist the urge to jump out of her chair when the door opened.  She turned her head and stared at him with the emotionless stare that classified Brooklyn newsies.

Jonathan looked different but she knew his attitude probably hadn't changed.  His blondish hair was beginning to gray like his brother's, and he wore a pair of thin oval glasses.  His muscular frame had become thinner and his skin stretched gauntly over his bones.  The thing that stuck out most, however, was the long jagged scar that ran across his face.  She kept her voice as emotionless as her eyes when she spoke, "Jonathan."

He slapped her across the face before she could say anything else, "How dare you run off after that accident!  How dare you run from your uncle!  You could have had the perfect easy life here!  Why on earth did you run off to be a…" He spat the last word like it was poison, "newsie!"

"Betta than bein' 'round people like you" she shot back.

Out of nowhere there was a whip in his hand.  It struck her back once and she only inwardly winced.  Had she had her knife on her she would have had it out and slashed his face so fast he wouldn't have known what hit him.   He threw the whip down on the desk.  "Don't think you can get out of here that easily.  Think of this as a little reminder of what happens when you disobey me."  He began to walk to the door and she only stared after him from the place where she was standing.

"Tell me one thing; is my brother alive?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and slammed the door behind him.  Rosa brought her back to her room a few minutes later.  Rosa wanted to get water to clean up her fresh cut but Brooke sent her away.  The knock on the window a few minutes later was almost ignored but Brooke was pretty sure she knew who it was.  She opened the window and let Specs in, throwing her arms around him as soon as the window was closed.  "He's here Specs.  I saw him."

"Yeah, Denton told us at the lodging house.  Spot went dead white."

Hotshot almost laughed hearing it.  She pulled away from him and walked to her bed.  Specs almost choked when he saw her back.

"What happened?  Are you alright?"

"I'm fine he just whipped me."

"And hit your face too," Specs observed, "Hotshot, saying he whipped you is about the equivalent of Les Jacob's sayin' he got beaten up by the Delancy' bruthas."

"I'll live.  It's not like it's the first time or anything.  I barely feel it anymore.  How's Blink?"  She tried to change the subject.

"He's doin' worse than he was the other day," Specs admitted, "Maybe the judge'll let you see him."  He saw the pained look on her face.

"I need a favor," she said.

"Name it."

"Under my mattress back at the lodging house there's a bunch of my stuff and a bag under the bed.  Pack it up and bring it to me tomorrow."

"Alright,"

"One more thing.  There's a knife with a black hilt."

"What about it?"

"Don't bring that.  Keep it with you or ask Kloppman to keep it until I come back.  Just don't ever bring it here."

"Why not?"

"I usually carry it with me."

"So?"

"If I have it and I see Jonathan," she took a deep breath, "I might kill him."  She allowed Specs to pull her into his arms.

"If I can't get here tomorrow I'll send it with Denton."

"Okay, try to bring it if you can.  I've got another week before court stats so I could use the entertainment."

"Alright," he kissed her forehead as he climbed up onto the windowsill, "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Night Specs," she called out after him.

"Night," a voice came from the ground.

A/N: Well another chapter done.  Hope it's getting interesting for anyone who's reading it.  It's definitely getting harder to write.  I just wish more people would read it and review (HintHint) Anyway I'm trying to get chapters up faster but I've been deprived of the Internet until I bring my Spanish grade up.  TTYL!


	14. Family in the First Day

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 14

By Megan

A/N: I don't know how things are done in a courtroom so the next few chapters may not be correct.  If you have suggestions send them to me; I'd greatly appreciate it.

            Denton stood at the door to the court the next morning with the sign in sheet that each newsie had to sign before entering.  All of them had signed in so far except Kid Blink, Spot, Rebel, Swifty, and Specs.  Kid Blink wasn't coming until he was out of the hospital or at least until he got better, if he did.  Spot and Rebel were just running late, as was Swifty.  Specs had strangely been the last one to sign up to be there.  Denton had heard of his and Hotshot's relationship from the others and expected him to be one of the first.  He'd seemed hesitant and Denton was not going to pry information from him until he needed to.  Swifty arrived and signed the sheet before going into the courtroom.  Hotshot walked out to where he was just as Spot and Rebel arrived.  Spot looked tempted to say something but a glare from Rebel silenced him.  They signed their names and found a seat inside.  Denton handed Hotshot the clipboard, "Specs has ten minutes until court starts.  When it's time to come in I'll come get you if you're not in there yet.  If Specs gets here go sit down and tell him to find an empty seat with the other newsies."

            Hotshot nodded and Denton went inside.  She slouched against the wall and looked at the list in her hands.  She scanned over the newsie names to see who was there.  She had a copy of the list to find out everyone's real names later.  Denton had made symbols for different newsies.  Manhattan newsies had one star after their name, Brooklyn newsies had two, and Mitchell had three.

List of newsies available at court:

            /Newsie name/                          /Real name/

Kid Blink*                                Trey Parker Cowboy*                                 Jack Kelly Racetrack*                               Anthony Higgins Davey*                                    David Jacobs Les*                                         Les Jacobs Mush*                                      Robert Arroyo Spot Conlon**                         Gabriel 'Gabe' Conlon Skittery*                                  Steven Bryant Dutchy *                                  Alexander Thomas Boots*                                     Christopher Page Bumlets*                                  Dominic Lucero  Crutchy*                                  Charlie Reynolds Snipeshooter*                          Jeremy Ford Snoddy*                                  Richard Cameron Jake*                                       Jacob Daniels Itey*                                        Jeffery Antos Pie Eater*                                Joseph Davis Snitch*                                     Kevin Donavan Swifty*                                     Michael Wallace 

18.Rebel**                                    Dennis Bennett

19.Royal**                                    Henry Frederick

20.Pickpocket**                            Kyle Dolan

21.Wiser**                                    Albert Everett

22.Scruff **                                   Jared Mason

23.Ace**                                       Jordan Acres

24.Cover**                                    Benjamin Clarke

25.Caps**                                     Stewart Conrad

26.Aqua**                                     Anton Klein

28.Virgo**                                     Virgil Jones

29.Libra**                                     Louis Danes

30.Starburst**                               Scott Brown

31.Mitchell***                               James Mitchell

32.Roman**                                  Andrew Roman

33.Swinger**                                 Corey Roswell

34.Scorpion**                               Eric Remington

35. Specs*                                     Matthew Edwards

(A/N: I just read 'things that go bump' by Anne Valentine and I did not copy her for Specs' name.  I came up with this in Spanish the other day.)

She glanced down at her watch praying that Specs would show up.  As the bell gave a five-minute warning Specs came racing up the steps.  "Sorry I'se late." He said as he peeked in the door, "Damn, Hotshot, I dunno if I can go in there."

"Who's in there that you're so scared of?" When she got no reply she added, "Please Specs, come in there for me.  I need your help."

Specs sighed thinking of how willing she was to help the other newsies and decided it was time he got over his fear, "Alright."  He took the clipboard and signed it before the two of them hurried to their seats.

"All rise for the respectable Judge. E.A. Monahan," said the bailiff as the judge entered the courtroom.  Seconds later he called for everyone to be seated.  Then he gave the judge the simple version of the case, "Brooke Maria Lynn versus Joseph Pulitzer." He handed the folder of papers for the case to the judge.

"Who is representing each client?" the judge asked.

"Mr. Bryan Denton representing Ms. Lynn and Mr. Nathaniel Edwards representing Mr. Pulitzer."

"Mr. Denton, have you any opening statements?"

"Yes you honor," Denton said standing, "My client wishes for emancipation from her stepfather and her uncle for clear reasons.  Until she was six and a half years old she lived with her parents and siblings in either their Brooklyn or Manhattan home.  When her father was convicted of murder and sent to the state penitentiary her mother married Mr. Jonathan Pulitzer, her husband's business associate.  Ms. Lynn has told me that Mr. Pulitzer beat her, her mother, and her brother Andres regularly.  When she was twelve there was a carriage accident that killed all members of her family.  Mr. Pulitzer's brother Joseph took her in and took it upon himself to control every aspect of her life.  He placed her into a new school, chose her friends, and arranged a marriage for her.  He also struck her only once, but he did strike her.  She only ran away to get away from her abusive situation.  When the police brought her back she found out her stepfather was alive.  We believe that the court should grant her emancipation to keep her out of the potentially dangerous situation that awaits her if she is kept under their care.  She may only have one year left in their care but a lot of damage can be done in one year."  Denton took his seat.

The judge turned to the other side of the room, "Mr. Edwards?"

Mr. Edwards rose from his chair and walked around the room in a more professional manner than Denton had, "Your honor, the only true information Mr. Denton has given today are the parts about what happened to her blood relatives, the murder, the marriage, the crash.  The rest were just stories that Ms. Lynn has made up in her mind as an excuse to run away.  As for what Joseph Pulitzer did when she was in his care, it was in her best interest.  The new school was the best in the city; he monitored her friends to be sure she grew up to be a proper young lady.  The marriage was arranged because it would secure the young woman's future.  Obviously she believed that she was being treated unfairly, so she made up stories, and joined the newsies.  As it is known throughout the city many of these boys were probably a bad influence on her.  Her uncle merely wanted her back to make sure that she was not being taken advantage of.  I'm sorry to say it may be too late.  Since she returned she refuses to wear a dress or a skirt and talks in street slang.  We would like her to stay in their custody in hopes that we may guide her to a more useful and productive future." (A/N: I know, I know, a line from the movie but, hey, it works.)

As Mr. Edward's took his seat the judge spoke again, "Now that I have heard from both sides of the situation I decree that the court process will start tomorrow.  Be sure to have any person that is needed on the stand is present.  Before we leave are there any requests?"

Mr. Edwards shook his head when the judge glanced in his direction.  Denton on the other hand spoke, "Ms. Lynn would like to ask for a few privileges your honor."

Brooke rose when the judge signaled for her to do so.  "I know that you will not allow me to stay at the newsies lodging house for the duration of the trial, but I do not believe it is fair that I stay in Pulitzer's mansion either," She said, "I would like permission to stay in my parent's Manhattan home with six other people.  My idea is that Joeseph Pulitzer and I each pick four people.  Joe will pick one newsie and two members of his household.  Then I will pick one member of his household and two newsies.  We will each also pick one from the others world whom they cannot use.  I would also like permission to visit my parents home in Brooklyn, the hospital, and the state penitentiary."

"That is a lot to ask for young lady," the judge paused, "But it does sound fair.  I would like each of you to at this time choose the member to eliminate."

While Pulitzer conferred with his lawyer Brooke turned to Denton, "I don't care who else he puts with me, eliminate Jonathan."  Denton nodded in understanding.

Each of the lawyers stood when they were ready.  "Mr. Denton, you first," the judge said.

"Jonathan Pulitzer," Denton said clearly.

"Jack Kelly," Mr. Edwards said, "Or Francis Sullivan, whatever he's going by these days."

"Will each party now pick the three persons from the list and send them forward." He announced.

Pulitzer sent his lawyer to fetch the three people, while Brooke did it herself.  Six people were lined up in front of the courtroom when they were done.

"Each of you please state your name for the court," the judge said, "Starting with those of you chosen by Joseph Pulitzer."

"Daniel Taylor."

"Rubin Hill."

"Anthony Higgins," Racetrack rounded out the group.

"And Ms. Lynn's…"

"Rosa Valdez."

"David Jacobs."

The last boy gulped staring at one man in the courtroom.  That man was watching the judge and paying him no attention.  He spoke, "Matthew Edwards."  The man's eyes were on him instantly and so were many painful memories.

**Flashback**

"How dare you talk back to me you little brat," The man brought a hand down across his oldest daughters face.

"Leave her alone," his only son, two years younger than his daughter cried.  

The man turned and struck him, harder because he was a boy.  He hit the boy until he lay still, and then stormed out of the room pausing at the door to only look over his shoulder and mutter incoherently.

"Matt," the girl leaned over her brother, "Why did you do that?  Lately you're the only one he ever hits." 

"It's better than him hitting you," said the ten year old who was now nursing a black eye.

His sister helped him up to his room where their mother was waiting to clean his cuts.  "Your father went out to drink so be quiet tonight, and Lily keep your little sisters in your room.  Matt, sweetheart are you alright." He nodded.

Their father came home later that night, drunk as usual.  Matt was still awake, watching out the window for him.  As always he had a bag packed near the window.  He'd threatened to run away many times but had never had the courage to carry it out.  The past few months his father had been angrier than ever with him and he'd been getting beaten worse lately.  He listened to his father's footsteps pass the door to his parent's room, then his sisters', stopping in front of his.  He could smell the alcohol even before his father opened the door.  "I'm gonna kill you, boy." He said opening the door, stumbling because he was more drunk than usual.  The knife in his other hand scared the boy terribly.  He took his bag and jumped out his window into the uppermost branches of the tree outside.  His father tried to follow, but stopped at the window, then turned to go downstairs.  Matthew reached the ground just as his father came out the kitchen door, waving the knife around.  He caught Matthew's left arm with it causing him to cry out in pain.

The boy jumped the fence and ran down the empty street.  Long after his father had stopped chasing him he ran.  After close to an hour he finally stopped and collapsed in an alley.  He'd never go back to that house.  Even if his father wasn't drunk he'd be killed.  The little boy cried himself to sleep thinking of his mother and sisters back at the house.

For the next two days he wandered the streets begging for food and money.  His black eye, ripped clothing, and numerous cuts only earned him pity for a day or two.  Most people just ignored him, but a few gave him spare change.  On the sixth morning he tapped the shoulder of a boy who looked about his age.  "Do you have any spare money?"

The boy turned around.  He was a little taller than Matthew with longish blond hair and blue eyes that sparkled behind glasses.  When he saw the boy in front of him the look on his face grew concerned.  The kid (Matthew's) clothes were ripped, bloody, and dirty.  He was short and had his dark brown hair cut close to his head.  His thin ovular glasses were bent, and he seemed like he hadn't eaten in days.  "You's a runaway."

"No," Matthew lied, "My parents died in a fire."

"Sorry t'hear that.  You need a job an' somewhere ta stay."

"Yeah," Matthew perked up.

"You could be a newsie.  C'mon I'll bring you to Kloppman.  I'se Dutchy by the way.  Don' worry 'bout givin' me your name.  You's gonna need a newsie one. Another boy, about the same age, named Bumlets, joined them on the way back and they entered the large building to find two other newsies talking to the man who seemed to be in charge.

"Kloppman," Bumlets said, "Dutchy found a new recruit out beggin' for food. Can you get 'im signed in?"

The old man explained the rules and sent one of the two newsies he'd been conversing with to get something to clean up Matthew's arm. After getting some bandages for his arm the two other newsies watched him.  Kloppman turned to one of them, "Skittery,"

"I didn't do it!"

"Never mind that," the old man said, "Can you two please try to give this kid a newsie name while I find him some decent clothes."

As the old man walked off the two boys approached.  They were taller than Matthew but about his age.  "Hello," said the one who hadn't been introduced, "I'se Jack Kelly, but me friends call me Cowboy, and this is Skittery.  What's your name?"

"Matthew."

"You don't gots a newsie name.  We'se gonna hafta think one up for you before Ambition gets back.  He's our leader, real nice guy.  You'll like him."

"What about Shrimp," Skittery suggested, leering at the smaller boy.  All of them in the room had at least half a foot on the new boy so it made perfect sense at the time.

"No," Jack glared at his friend then examined the boy, "You'se seem smart, are you?"

"I'se educated if that's what ya mean." He copied the newsie's accent.

Jack smiled, " How 'bout Specs."

All of them, including Matthew smiled.  It fit perfectly and from then on he ignored the name Matthew and went by Specs.

That night Jack introduced him to everyone, including their leader, Ambition.  Specs asked Ambition if he could still go to school and seeing as their previous 'educated newsie' had left Ambition said yes.  Specs was fitted with proper newsie clothes and allowed to study with an old neighbor of his every afternoon.  Specs went to school every day until he was fourteen and the neighbor moved.

Many physical changes also occurred.  Kloppman bought him a new rounder pair of glasses to replace the broken ones and Specs let his hair grow longer.  To his surprise it was somewhat curly like his mother's.  Somehow when his work and exercise increased and his food decreased Specs went through a major growth spurt.  It amazed everyone in the lodging house how often he needed new clothes.  He passed many of the other newsies the year he was eleven.  By age twelve he was taller than Jack, and passed Skittery at fourteen making him the second tallest in the lodging house.  When he was fifteen he was looking Ambition, the tallest, in the face.  Skittery commented that he was glad they hadn't named him Shrimp.  He was also somewhat thinner than before.

The year he was fifteen was also the year that Ambition left to get a job, as he was too old to be a newsie.  Jack was a natural born leader so he took Ambition's place.  The day that their old leader left Specs found Ambition's fedora, the hat he was known for, on his bed.  Ambition had just commented that Specs needed a hat the day before, and it was well known that he never forgot anything so Specs knew it was meant as a gift.  Since then he'd worn it every day.

He was friends with all the newsies by then and spent most of his time with Dutchy, Bumlets, Skittery and Kid Blink.  When anyone asked him about his past he'd tell them his parents died in a fire.  Even when he'd seen his father on the street twice he ignored the urge to run and acted like he didn't know the man.

Today, however, he had a feeling the story was going to come out.

**End Flashback**

The courtroom was deathly silent.  Specs glanced quickly in Hotshot's direction to see what she was thinking.  She'd made the connection quickly and was looking back and forth between Specs and his father.  Some of the newsies had also figured it out and the ones that hadn't were silent because all those around them had fallen silent when Mr. Edwards stood suddenly.  Specs looked back at his father and met his eyes, only able to do so for seconds because he was still scared of the older man.  Those seconds were plenty for his father's message to be delivered; he was a dead man.

The judge was one of the few who hadn't made the connection.  He was writing out a formal document for the names of people who would be in the house.  He paid no attention to the quiet courtroom and gave a copy of the document to Denton, adding the other to the folder.  "Each of those who was named, you have one hour to pack your belongings and return to the front of the courthouse where a carriage will be waiting."  With that he banged his mallet on the table, "Court dismissed."

Mr. Edwards shot a final glare at his son before turning to Mr. Pulitzers and the three members of his household who were staying with Hotshot.  Denton motioned to the three newsies in the front of the room and he came over.  "Specs, why didn't you tell me he was your father?"

"I thought, maybe, he wouldn't have to know my real name," Specs sighed, "He can't do anything until Hotshot's case is over, right?"

Denton nodded, "But you'll be more involved than before."  He turned to the others, "Go pack your things and Racetrack get Specs'.  Specs I want you to stay here with Brooke."

The courtroom was nearly empty when Brooke, Specs, and Denton exited.  Specs was praying the entire time that his father had already left, but any hope was quickly dashed.

"Matthew!"

The three of them turned to face Mr. Edwards and Joseph Pulitzer.  Specs quickly wrapped his arms around Hotshot's waist in a protective and friendly manner, not like they were dating.  Both of the men raised an eyebrow at the actions.  "What do you want?" Specs asked sounding braver than he felt.

"Can I help you Mr. Edwards?" Denton asked at the same time.

"I wish to speak to my son," the man said glaring at Denton, "You are the girl's lawyer not his."

"Actually I am the lawyer for all of the newsies in Manhattan, Specs included," Denton called the boy by his newsie name.

"Fine, then stand back and listen.  I want to speak to my son, and Mr. Pulitzer wishes to speak to his niece."

"It's alright Denton," Specs said.  Denton looked back at him.

"So this is what you ran away for; to become a newsie," Specs father spat, "You are protected only until this case is over.  After that I will drag you home."

"I'm seventeen and a half," Specs said, "You can't make me come home."

"I can make you until you are eighteen and I will.  If I need to I'll bring you to court and I'd like to know how you'd afford it then."

Specs glared at him.  He couldn't afford to go to court with the money he made in a year, and his father knew it.  

"That goes for you as well Ms. Lynn," Pulitzer said, "Mr. Edwards is the best lawyer in New York.  It is not possible that Mr. Denton can beat him."

"My father is the best lawyer in New York," she spoke calmly, "And we will win because as you have said often in your papes, Joe, the guilty are always punished."

"Even if you get emancipation there are other ways of dealing with you," Now that Denton had gone down to the returning newsies Pulitzer spoke freely.  His lawyer only nodded in agreement.

"Tell you what," said Specs, "We'll make a little bet."  Specs had rarely gone to the tracks or gambled his herd earned money but it felt like it needed to be done now.  "If you win me and Hotsh- I mean Brooke will go back without a fight and stay there until we're old enough to leave.  But if Denton and her win you leave us alone and drop trying to find us."

Edwards smiled, his son wanted to bet his freedom on this girls trial.  There was no way he could lose.  He exchanged an agreeing glance with Pulitzer and shook his son's free hand.  "By the way, your mother and I are planning a dinner party on Friday.  Mr. Pulitzer will be there.  Why don't the two of you join us?"

"Alright," Specs agreed as the two men walked off.  It was this moment that Daniel Taylor arrived back at the courthouse.  His face turned red with anger when he saw the two of them.

He stalked over, "Come along Brooke," he reached for her hand and Specs pulled her back a little.  "Unhand my fiancée newsie." Daniel threatened.

Hotshot pulled herself out of Specs arms and walked up to him, "Get it through your head, Daniel, I am not now, nor will I ever be your fiancée." With that she and Specs walked past him to meet up with David and Race at the bottom of the stairs."

The carriage ride to the mansion was almost silent.  Specs seemed somewhat astounded when he found the mansion to be one of the ones that they had been near the day Dutchy, Mush, and Kid Blink had fought with the Delancy brothers while they ran.  As Brooke was shaking slightly he took her hand and squeezed it lightly.  She looked at him, biting her lip nervously; she hadn't been to the house in almost seven years.  The house looked as though it had never been touched and Hotshot figured that Pulitzer had hired someone to take care of it.  It was when they reached the front door that Rubin complained of a problem,

"Miss Lynn, no one has the key to this door.  How are we going to get in?"

Hotshot nodded and pulled a thin piece of string from around her neck.  There was a key dangling on it, which she placed in the keyhole and turned.  She turned the knob and let them in.  Everyone looked around for a moment, too taken with the place to say anything.  "Why don't I show you your rooms?" Hotshot broke the silence.

The large group proceeded up the staircase and followed Hotshot when she turned left at the top.  "Now let's see if I can remember…" She muttered to herself, trailing off.  She opened a door on her right to reveal a large bedroom, "I thought so, Daniel this is your room."  They waited as Daniel placed his things on his bed and rejoined them.  She gave the next room to Rubin and the one after that to Rosa.  She opened the door to the next room, revealing two beds.  "Race and David, this is your room."

"How come we's gotta share a room?" Race complained.

"I will tell you later," she hissed, giving him a look.  David was already coming back from disposing of his thing.  Race left his bag just inside the door.  She gave the next room to Specs and claimed the last room for herself.  After that she gave everyone a tour of the rest of the house and sent them to unpack.  When Rosa asked Hotshot went to the linen closet and gave the maid three sets of sheets and took another four for herself.

"Brooke, give me those sheets.  I'll do it." Rosa said.

"Rosa, you're here as my guest.  Everyone's going to help so don't worry about it."  She directed Rosa down the right side of the hall and took the left.  She walked into David and Race's room to find Specs there as well.  "Any of you figure it out yet?" She asked tossing two sets of sheets at the room's temporary owners.

"Yeah, they're connected," David said, picking up the sheets she gave him.

Race gave her a look.  He knew she had a reason for doing everything and shouldn't have questioned her, "I was wrong, alright, you did have a good reason."  He then closed his mouth and began to make the bed.  

Hotshot smirked and walked into Specs' room where she deposited another set of sheets.  He was still in Dave and Race's room.  She went into her room and quickly made the bed.  She'd been taught very early on how to do it by a maid because she'd had a habit of jumping on them and messing up the covers when she was little.  

Specs was leaning against the doorframe that separated their rooms when she was finished.  "So why do our rooms all need to be connected?"

"So I can talk to you guys about the trial and other stuff," she said giving the blanket a final tug and standing up.  The two of them walked into Specs room and began to put the sheets on his bed.  "I was jus' 'bout goin' crazy at Pulitzer's with no one to talk to or play poker with."

"What about Rosa?"

"She doesn't like me to gamble.  She's a really good friend and everything but…"

"She feels the same way about you bein' a newsie as Pulitzer does." Specs finished.

"That and she's just uneducated in her rights and everything.  It's hard to explain."

"Trust me," Specs said, "I understand."

That night the group had a quiet dinner and everyone entertained himself or herself for most of the evening.  Brooke sat in Dave and Race's room and they talked about the trial.  Specs was there too but he wasn't into the conversation much.  He sat on one of the beds and looked around the room.

"So whose room was dis when you lived here?" Race asked. 

"The twins," she said, "Aaron and Salina.  They woulda been 'bout seven or eight last time we was here."

"And Specs' room?" David asked.

"Blackjack's, oops… I mean Andres'."  She stumbled over the words, "and my room was mine.  I barely remember my way around the place though.  Ain't lived here or even been inside in years."

"What 'bout the place in Brooklyn?" Race asked it with a look of interest in his eyes.

"We hid Brooklyn newsies in there a few years ago when the bulls were lookin' for 'em.  My bets Pulitzer paid someone ta keep that place in shape too."

Race seemed bored with the topic and quickly moved to a new one, "Who's up for a game a-" He stopped suddenly with a hand on his vest pocket.  He moved his pants and then jumped up and searched through his bag.  "I forgot me cards." The way he said it sounded as if he'd forgotten everything he owned and the lodging house had burned down.  "Please tell me you's got some here Hotshot."

"I don't think-" In the middle of her sentence she cut herself off and jumped off the floor.  The three of them followed her into the next room.  She leaned down in the corner and pried a loose board away.  She reached her hand into the hole and pulled out a small box.  When she opened it she made sure only she could see inside.  Triumphantly she pulled out a deck of cards, closed the box, and placed it back in the hole.  She shoved the cards into Races hands and commanded, "You deal."

Race shuffled the cards in his hands and smiled, "Wit' pleasure."

The card games lasted for hours, with Racetrack or Brooke winning most of them since David and Specs didn't play as often.  When they ended the three boys went to their rooms for some sleep while Hotshot went to the bathroom to change.  She put on a more comfortable pair of pants and a t-shirt.  Something more likely to be worn by a boy than a girl. She entered her room and pulled down the blankets as the door opened.

"Are you ready for bed?"  She looked up at the sound of Daniel's voice.

"What's it to you?" She glared at him, not trusting him at all.

"You are my fiancée.  Therefore, it is my right to-"

She cut him off knowing what he was going to say, "No."

"And you think I'm going to give you a choice.  What do you think you could stop me?  I'm a man, therefore, I m probably ten times more powerful than you."

As he spoke he was also getting closer to her.  She grabbed for Specs' vest, which lay on the end of her bed.  She knew it was the only place he ever hid anything, so she reached into her pocket, her hands closing around the cold metal of a pocketknife.  She pulled it out and flipped it open.  She had it held against his neck in seconds, "Yes, I have a choice. I KNOW I can stop you.  And you may be stronger but I've got tricks up my sleeves that you couldn't begin to imagine, plus three guys who could attack you in seconds.  Some of the ones at the lodging house are even willing to kill."

He smiled cockily and Hotshot tried her hardest to resist the urge to shove the knife into his throat.  He knew he wouldn't stay in the room that night but needed to at least insult her before he left.  He laughed, "I've got plenty of them as well," he wasn't showing how scared he really was.  "You're just like your parents Brooke," he pulled back a bit from the knife, "A fugitive like your father, and a slut like your mother."

That was more than she could take.  Hotshot threw herself at him with her knife raised, ready to kill.  Two strong arms grabbed her and pulled her back before she could touch him.  One of them held her around the waist to keep her from lunging again, while the other steadied the arm holding the knife. She glanced quickly behind her to find Specs holding her back.  Obviously he'd come back to get his vest and stepped in before she did any damage.  "Get out of here."

Daniel turned and walked to the door.  He stopped and turned to her for a second, "Don't worry though, we'll make you a better woman."

In Specs' grasp she again tried to lunge and struggled against his grip.  "I've got half a mind to just let her go," Specs threatened Daniel who was watching her with pleasure, "After that I won't get in her way so you better leave while you got the chance." Daniel was gone within seconds and Specs released Hotshot.

"Why didn't you let me at him?"

"You woulda killed him.  Hell I wanna kill him for what he said.  Didn't matter who he was sayin' it about.  You just don't say stuff like that."  He took the knife out of her hand and placed it back in his pocket.  "You gonna be alright?"

She shook her head, "If he comes back…"

Specs collapsed onto her bed.  "I'll stay here with you 'till you fall asleep."

"What goods that gonna do?"

"Well, if he comes back he won't come in here."  As she climbed into bed he threw a blanket over her and laid on top of it.  "I won't try nothin', promise."

"Alright," she rolled over and let him lay beside her.  Her first day at court had been exhausting and she didn't think she could stand to think about anything else.  Within the next few minutes she drifted into a deep sleep. Specs smiled at her sleeping form and though, 'I'll leave in a few more minutes.'  The first few minutes turned into a few more, and a few more, and soon Specs had also fallen asleep.  Racetrack found them there half an hour later when he went to ask Specs a question.

"Ten ta one, day this things over they're back together," he told David.

David shook his head; declining the bet, "Bum odds."  He threw an extra pillow at Racetrack before climbing into bed.

(A/N: Another chapter, big English final tomorrow.  Wish me luck!!! 6/19)

            (6/26- Well finals are done and I'm finally out of school.  Officially a sophomore.  I'll probably have more time to write this summer but I'm goin' to Cape Cod for two weeks so no updates then.  I'll get more up before then) 


	15. Questions and Threats

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 15

By Megan

            When Specs woke up the next morning he found himself still asleep on Hotshot's bed.  She was awake and off somewhere else in the house.  He forced himself to get up and walked into the bathroom.  Running a hand through his messy hair he yawned and tried to straighten out his crumpled shirt.  After a few minutes he just threw his vest on and ran a comb through his hair.  He found Hotshot in the kitchen, helping Rosa and Racetrack make breakfast.  Obviously someone had gone shopping the day before.  While Rosa and Hotshot made one thing Racetrack was making something else.  He was sometimes known as the chef at the lodging house and often got up early on holidays to cook breakfast.  "Whatcha makin', Race?" He asked.

            Race turned around, "Pancakes.  Denton came by a while ago and told us we don't hafta be at the courthouse until noon.  Denton and you's dad are gonna talk to the judge and sort the stuff like the hospital and visiting Brooke's dad out."  For calling Hotshot by her real name Race soon had a raw egg in his hair.  They both glanced over at the brunette who was glaring at them, threatening Race with another egg.

Racetrack held up a hand in defeat and suggested that Specs go wake David up.  Specs almost ran into Rubin as he left the kitchen and mumbled a quick apology before dashing up the stairs.  He went through Hotshot's room so he could find his boots.          

Daniel was standing in the doorway looking around.  "Where is she?" he snapped at Specs.

"Breakfast.  Downstairs." Specs broke his sentences down as small as he could to get the message through Daniel's thick scull.  The boy turned and walked calmly down the hall.  Specs picked up his boots off of the floor and then woke David up, much more nicely than Racetrack would have done it.

As the two boys entered the kitchen a wonderful aroma greeted them and there was a knock on the door.  Hotshot hurried to the kitchen door and threw it open without looking at it.  Spot bounced into the room muttering, 'good morning.' And sitting down in one of the stools near the bar.  Everyone else gathered around the bar after grabbing a plate of steaming food from the counter, except Daniel.  He was sitting in the dining room waiting for his food to be delivered to him by a servant.  Every few seconds he'd yell and ask why his breakfast wasn't ready yet.  

Spot was the first one to get fed up with it.  "May I?" he asked pointing to Daniel's plate and cup of coffee on the counter.  His mind and Hotshot's connected and she nodded.  Spot picked up the plate and carried it out to the table.  The six of them still sitting around the bar watched as he poured the coffee into Daniel's lap and placed the plate down on the table, upside down of course, in front of him.  "Have a nice day." Spot said before returning to his seat. 

Denton arrived at the house about an hour later with good news.  "Edwards didn't argue anything," he said, "He knew the judge would take our side.  Must be planning something.  Anyway we have permission for you to visit the hospital at any time.  You can go to the lodging house, Pulitzer's house, Brooklyn, basically anywhere in Manhattan or Brooklyn anytime we're not in court."

"Good, Spot can you and a couple of the other newsies go check out the mansion in Brooklyn this weekend.  I think Pulitzer's hiding something there."  She took the key from around her neck and handed it to him.

"We'll leave right after court on Friday," he said nodding.

"As for your visit to the State Penitentiary…" Denton trailed off waiting for her attention again, "You and Jack are going next Monday.  If you still want to reopen your father's case then the judge will interrupt your trial to do it.  But we need an eyewitness first."

Spot had an uneasy feeling his stomach as Denton spoke. Hotshot merely nodded before Denton suggested that everyone get ready to go.  They all piled into the waiting carriage half an hour later and rode across town to the courthouse.  Numerous newsies were already seated on one side of the courtroom.  Hotshot, Spot, Race, David, and Specs were immediately pulled into the always-growing group until Pulitzer came and took his seat.  Hotshot sat at the opposite table but still talked to the newsies behind her.

"So, why'd ya pick who you picked yesterday?" Jack asked.

"Rosa, 'cause she's the only one I trust from Pulitzer's house, David because he's smart, and Specs 'cause he's my best friend at the lodging house."

"You know you made me lose a bet for that." Racetrack complained.

"You shouldn't be gambling anyway.   Who'd ya think I'd pick?"

"Spot," Race said, "God I was sure you'd pick 'im 'cause you's known him longest."

"Whom'd you lose to?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Me," said Jack, "Speakin' a which, you owe me money."

Race dug into his pocket as he spoke again, "Yeah, Jackie boy was the only one who thought you'd pick Specs.  Even Specs said he was crazy."  Race left suddenly as some other friends called him to another row.  

"Don't make any plans after court next Monday, Jack," Hotshot said.

"Why not?" he asked.

"You and I are going to the State Penitentiary."  She turned, ignoring the shocked look on his face as the judge entered the room.

That morning the proceeding opened with the judge going over what he, Denton, and Mr. Edwards had discussed that morning.  He also stated that since Ms. Lynn was given so many allowances Pulitzer would be calling his witnesses first.  The judge already knew that the trial was going to be a long one.  Pulitzer and Ms. Lynn each had over 30 people that could be questioned so he planned to have seven people questioned daily.  Each of them was given six days worth of slots, or 42 witnesses, to question.  There was also no doubt that Ms. Lynn would be reopening her father's case as part of it, so there was another week set aside for that.  Then there was the fact that the press was all around the building to find out what was going on, because Pulitzer was part of it.  That crowd would also grow once Ms. Lynn opened her father's case.

"Mr. Edwards and I put together a list of everyone that will be called to the stand during the whole proceeding this morning," Denton said handing Brooke the list.  She looked it over. Almost half were members of either of the Pulitzer's staff, almost another half were newsies, and about ten percent were others like, Daniel, Medda, Kloppman, and kids she went to school with.  She only nodded and handed him back the list.  The only thing that made her nervous was the fact that Specs was last on Mr. Edwards' list.

Mr. Edward's walked calmly to the front of the room and announced the name of the first witness, "Thomas Meyer."

One of Pulitzer's butlers's stood and walked to the front of the room.  After he swore the oath and took a seat Edwards questioning began.  "Mr. Meyer, how long have you been working for Mr. Pulitzer?"

"Twenty years, Sir."

"And this young woman," He indicated Brooke, "lived in his household for a few years did she not."

"His and his brother's, Sir."

"Very good, and did you ever see Jonathan or Joseph Pulitzer harm this child?"

"No Sir."

"So she was never beaten?"

"Never."

"Mr. Meyer, did she ever disobey rules while she was living in Jonathan's home?"

"Always.  She and her older brother were always getting into some sort of trouble."

"And did their stepfather punish them?"

"Yes, though not very severely."

"Did she cause trouble in her uncle's home as well?"

"Yes."

"She also ran away many times.  Isn't that right, Sir?" 

"Yes, she and her brother weren't in the house very often.  Always out with the newsies."

Now Mr. Edwards began to trick the judge.  "Did she ever make up…" He trailed off and suddenly looked up as an idea struck him, "Stories…Excuses?"

"Excuses, never.  She made up stories all the time.  Said she wanted to be a writer."

"How did she treat the staff at Mr. Pulitzer's home?"

"She treated us like we was the scum of the earth.  She always ordered us around and screamed at us.  Most of us begged Mr. Pulitzer to throw her out at one time or another."

"That is all…" Mr. Edwards walked back to his seat and sat down with a devilish smile on his face.

Meanwhile Hotshot was clenching her hands in fists underneath the table.  Every single thing Mr. Meyer had said on the stand was a lie, except for that she wanted to be a writer.  Pulitzer was either threatening all of his workers or bribing them. She whispered briefly in Denton's ear before he stood to interrogate the witness.

"Tom, did you ever work directly with Hot-, excuse me, Ms. Lynn?"

"No, Mr. Denton, I did not."

"So how did you know what she was like?"

"I heard stories from the others."

"And how do you know that these stories were not merely created like you believe all of Ms. Lynn's stories about her uncle and stepfather are?"

Mr. Meyer looked at Denton, and then at Hotshot.  "I don't know Mr. Denton."

"That is all Your Honor."

"The witness may step down," The judge's voice echoed through the room.

The other six witnesses all answered their questions in the same manner.  While Mr. Edwards asked them all mostly the same questions Denton asked each person something different.  Hotshot blocked out all the sound in the courtroom after the fourth person.  Edwards was showing the judge that all of these people though alike, but Denton was showing, little by little that it was not really true.  Now all Hotshot wondered about was what he would do when he put newsies on the stand.  She didn't even know that court was over for the day until Mush put a hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly.

"Hotshot? It's over for today.  You ready to go?"

She looked around to see everyone exiting the courtroom and walked out with her friends.

That night she found Racetrack, David, and Specs in her room when she walked upstairs after dinner.  Racetrack dealt her in and the game started.  They sat on the floor and played for hours.  Daniel began to play the piano downstairs so Hotshot switched on the radio (did they have 'em?).  The loud music drowned out the sound of classical music being played downstairs.  At ten the boys returned to their rooms and Hotshot changed into her pajamas.  She opened her door to find Daniel grinning brilliantly in the hall.

"Scram," she told him and slammed the door in his face before he could comment.  He knocked again and she sighed.  She took the knife off of the table where her winnings lay. She'd bet Specs that she could beat him that night and told him to put down her knife.  Now she opened the door and flicked it open, with the tip barely an inch from his throat.  "I told you not to come down here no more.  If you don't beat it now I'll have you removed for harassment."

"Fine," he turned and walked down the hall muttering somewhat loudly, "You probably jus wanna screw with Specs anyway."

A knife sailed by his head and imbedded itself in the doorframe just in front of him.  He spun around and looked at her.  She only stood there looking as calm as ever and staring at him.  

"If you say anythin' like that again I won't miss.  That's a promise."  With that she strolled over, snatched the knife, and slammed the door to her room.  She stood next to the door and listened to make sure he actually left.  She sighed when she could no longer hear his footsteps.  She turned around and jumped in surprise when she found Specs standing behind her.  "What the- Specs, don't do that."

He calmly reached out and took the knife from her hand, closed it, and put it in his pocket.  "Sorry," he finally said, "This time you don't get this back 'til the trial is over."

She just shrugged and climbed into bed.  Specs sat on the other side of it and the two of them talked until they fell asleep.  That night Daniel came back and saw them together.  He was furious and wanted to get Specs for it but though of how much he could twist it around in court.  Only that though made him return to his room.

A few hours later Brooke woke up from a nightmare.  She shivered in the cold room and stumbled across the room to close the window.  Back in bed she moved closer to the warmth of Specs' body and fell asleep again.

Specs was the only one woken by Rosa's knocking the next morning.  He moaned but reluctantly opened his eyes and picked up his glasses from a table.  "Hotshot," he muttered, "Wake up."  He nudged the sleeping girl next to him until she swatted at his hand.  "We gotta be ready in an hour so get your butt outta bed."

"I'm up," she snapped sitting up on the bed.  She looked at him in his wrinkled clothes and asked, "Didya fall asleep in here again?"  She tried to suppress a yawn but failed miserably in doing so.

He reached over and messed up her hair, "Yeah, sorry."

She shrugged, "Don' worry 'bout it.  I really don' care."

He got up and walked into his room to clean up.  Hotshot switched out of her pajamas and into her clothes.  She met the others downstairs for a quick breakfast and they were ushered out to the carriage by Denton.

The questions went much as they had the day before.  Mr. Edwards had placed all of the newsies into the last two days so she could stop paying a lot of attention until Monday.  She listened only to get used to Edwards' way of working and paid attention to what Denton was proving through each client.  Even though more than half the courts spectators were under eighteen the room was mostly silent.  A few of the newsies would murmur to each other occasionally if they though something was unfair.  Pulitzer's workers would also mutter to each other.  

Hotshot was glad to get out of the boiling courtroom that afternoon and sat with the newsies on the front steps.  "I'll be home before dark," she told Rosa as the older woman passed.  Daniel heard her and insisted on going with her and the newsies.  "Fine," she said through gritted teeth, "but if you can't keep up no one's going to wait for you."  She looked at his expensive attire and dress shoes, comparing them to the newsies patched clothes and work boots. 

She began to walk with the other newsies down the steps glaring at Spot and Jack.  They each looked at her and she mouthed a few small words.  A grin spread across Jack's face and Spot ran to the front of the group.

"Race ta the square!" He bellowed from the front of the line, "Las' one there buys me, an' Jackie boy dinner!" 

All of the newsies immediately took off in groups, scattering in different directions.  Specs, Bumlets, Dutchy, and Skittery pulled Hotshot in the direction of an alley.  Daniel lost sight of her in the crowd and tried to follow the other newsies but wasn't used to the fast pace.  He quickly lost sight of them and, not knowing where to go, returned to the mansion.

Everyone was at the square twenty minutes later and Hotshot was celebrating the fact that they'd lost Daniel.  "Thanks Spot," she said, "I owe ya one."

"Eh, what else is new," he said grinning.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and the group started toward the lodging house.  Specs glared at Spot until Dutchy pushed him to get him moving.  They all settled around the crowded bunkroom and started various games of poker and conversations.  Hotshot joined a game with   
Race, Royal, Swinger, Roman, and Bumlets.  

"So how's Kid Blink?" she asked while Race dealt the cards.  All she was rewarded with was silence.  "Bumlets?" She turned to the one who knew him best out of the group.

"They only let me an' Jack in to see him." Bumlets shuffled his cards around in his hand.  "He ain't doin' good Hotshot.  The doctas really don' think he's gonna get betta."  As he spoke she got a faraway look in her eyes.

She stood suddenly, "I can't play guys.  I can't concentrate tonight."  Usually Race would have yelled insults at her and forced her into playing.  Tonight, however, he knew what she was thinking and let it slide.  She walked across the room and sat down with Jack, Spot, and Rebel, leaning slightly against Spot's shoulder.  "You's gonna tell me if he gets any woise, right Jack?"  She asked with her eyes on him.

Jack avoided her eye for a second and then met her gaze.  "I promise that if things start lookin' real downhill I'll send someone out right away."  She nodded, satisfied with his answer and began to get up.  "Hotshot," she turned at Jack's voice, "you know there's a chance he won't make it…"   

She nodded, "I know."  With that she walked to the other side of the room.  She joined a poker game with Specs, Dutchy, and Skittery, but was so out of it she lost three games to Skittery before realizing she should quit.  Her mood brightened considerably when she beat Race later that night.  He'd taken advantage of her mood and challenged her to a game.  She'd focused more on the game and won over a dollar from him.

Jack walked with them when they returned to Hotshot's house that night. He strongly discouraged Hotshot's idea of dropping by the hospital the next day.  "Why not?" she asked suspiciously when he said not to.

"He just…Hotshot he doesn't look good…" Jack stumbled over his words and trailed off.  

"I don't care how he-" she started, but she looked around and saw the identical looks on their faces.  "Fine," she groaned, "I won't go."

"Jus' in case you change you's mind later, rememba there's t'ree newsies unda your roof who can stop you," Jack said as they reached the front porch.  The other three continued inside but she stood there for a moment.

"None a them could stop me."

"Well, jus' stay here so they don't gotta worry about you," Jack patted her shoulder and jogged down the street.

Hotshot ran up the stairs to her room after yelling to Rosa that they were back.  She closed the door and contemplated the though of sneaking out and going to the hospital.  It was past nine so she'd have to sneak in through a window.  But then there was no doubt that Race or David would tell Jack and Spot, even Specs would.  She sighed in frustration and threw open her window, climbing out onto the roof.  Right next to her room there was a flat, balcony-like area, like the roof of the lodging house.  She pulled herself onto it and laid down.

Minutes later she heard noise in her room followed by a voice at the window, "Hotshot, Jack and Spot are gonna kill you."  He seemed to be hoping she hadn't gone out of earshot yet but at the same time saying it to himself.

She leaned over the edge of the 'circle' as her brother had called it and called down to him, "How can I get in trouble if I don't go anywhere."

Specs jumped back from the window and then edged his way back to it looking up at her, "How did you get up there?"

"Climb out the window and walk up that way," she said pointing,

"I never said I was coming up," he said.

"Fine," she laughed, "but I ain't comin' back down for a while." She stood and walked out of his sight.  She sat back and listened to him grumble as he climbed up to where she was.  He sat next to her looking angry.  "Oh please," She laughed, "It couldn't have been that hard.  I mean you's a newsies.  Don' tell me you ain't ever had to climb on a roof or up a tree ta get away from the bulls."

He gave her a little shove, "So what is this place?"

"The people who built the house just never put shingles on this part of the roof.  My grandparents and my parents never noticed.  Neither did Jonathan.  I been climbing out her with me bruther since I was four, or five.  We hid a bunch of stuff out here.  Blackjack called it the circle."

"What about after he died?"

She winced slightly at the memory and he began to apologize.  "No," she said, "Don't worry about it.  I haven't been in this house since he died.  When he was away though I practically lived up here, especially when I was grounded.  He knew I was probably up here if I wasn't in my room.  It's the place I come and think, especially at night."

He raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

  "I just stare up at the moon and the stars.  It was the only peaceful part of my life with the family I was cursed wit'."

They sat up on the circle for a little while longer and then climbed down.  

"Well if it ain't the lovebirds," Racetrack's voice greeted them as the climbed in through the window.  He was sitting on the floor shuffling through a deck of cards, with a new cigar in his mouth.  He placed a pile of money on the floor, "You wanna play a few games?"

"Where'd you get the cigar and the money?" Hotshot asked.  She knew very well that Race kept his money at the lodging house and he'd been complaining half of the walk home that he'd run out of cigars.

"I brung it wit' me from the lodging house." 

"Ratero." She laughed.

"Huh?" Both the boys in the room looked at her.

She tried hard to suppress her laugher and regained control a few seconds later, "Pickpocket." Before Race could accuse her for lying she gave her reasoning followed by a bit of advice, "Don't take anymore during the trial; if you get caught I can't help you."

"I don' need your help," he said, "but I'll stop."

"Thanks Racetrack," she rubbed a hand over her face, "I don't feel like playin' tonight but I promise an extra game tomorrow."

He shrugged, "Night then." 

Court was the same as the previous two the next day.  Hotshot sent a message to Kid Blink through Bumlets and sold papes with the newsies all afternoon.  It was the first time most of them had sold all week so everyone was eager to do it again.  

Specs sat next to her on her bed that night.  She watched him for a minute before asking a question, "So who else is going to your parents' tomorrow?"  Denton had received the formal invitation from the Edwards' inviting him, Hotshot, Specs, and a few other newsies to their dinner the next night.

"Umm…" he thought for a minute, "You, me, David, Race, Jack, Spot, Dutchy, Mush, Bumlets, Skittery, and Rebel."

She lay back on the bed, "Should I be nervous?"

"No," Specs shook his head, "My dad doesn't like anyone, but me mum an' sisters'll like you."

"I didn't know you had sisters?" she yawned looking over at him, "How many?"

Specs looked at her with a faraway look in his eyes like he was remembering something, "Three.  Lily was the only one older than me.  She'd be about nineteen now, maybe twenty.  Margaret would be thirteen, and Ana must be ten by now."  He looked slightly amazed at the thought and it seemed to be the first time he'd really thought about it.  He looked at Hotshot with a glazed look in his eyes, "I haven't seen them in over seven years."

"Specs, your father would have killed you if he'd seen you anywhere near that house."  She tried to reason with him.

"But still, I shoulda gotten back there somehow."

"Agh," she threw up her hands in defeat, "Specs, you had no control over that.  All they's gonna care about is that you come to the dinner.  You are so stubborn sometimes."

He smiled, "You should talk."  The faraway look returned to his eyes and he laughed, "Last time I saw them Lily had over a foot on me an' the other two were almost as tall as me."

She stretched out on the bed and muttered, "I'se been livin' wit' all guys since I was twelve.  Whatta ya expect?"

He stretched out behind her saying nothing at all.  He knew she was right.  Sarah had only been around them for a few months but in that time she had become more tolerant of their behavior.  Girls had to be more stubborn around the newsies or they could be taken advantage of.  

Hotshot leaning against him a bit brought him back to reality.  He sighed and placed his specs on the table next to the bed.  The last thought he had before falling asleep was about how much he wanted the next day to be over.


	16. More Secrets

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 16

By Megan

            The next day was the day that Mr. Edwards was beginning to question the newsies.  Hotshot was nervous because she didn't know who he was questioning.  She leaned her head against Specs' shoulder the entire ride to the courthouse.  "I have a feeling it's going to be a long day," she said as she jumped down. 

            "You have no idea how much I want it to be over," Specs replied.  They separated when the entered the courtroom.  Specs took his seat among the newsies and Hotshot sat at the table where Denton's briefcase lay.  She folded her arms in front of her on the table and used them as a pillow.

            "You's ok?" Skittery asked taking a seat behind her.

            "I'll live," she turned to look back at her friends, "Good luck to whoever he questions today."  She sank lower in her chair as Pulitzer and Edwards entered the courtroom, followed soon after by the judge.  She bit her nail in a nervous habit until Mr. Edwards called his first witness,

 "Robert Arroyo."

She took a deep breath and watched Mush walk up to the witness stand.  He sat down and gave her an easygoing and encouraging smile.  She smiled at him in return.

"Mr. Arroyo, how long have you known Ms. Lynn?"

Mush shrugged, "A little more than two months."

"And in those two months how did she treat everyone around her?"

"The same way we- No probably better than we treated her.  She was always fair."

It was obviously not the answer Mr. Edwards had wanted.  "Why do you live in the lodging house Mr. Arroyo?"

"It's either that or the orphanage," he said, "an' I'd rather take me chances on the street than in that place."

Hotshot bit her lip.  She knew exactly what Edwards was doing.  He wanted to show the judge that the kind of people she was associating with were nothing more then riffraff and a bad influence on her.

"How much money do you have Mr. Arroyo?  With you and back at the lodging house?  Savings?"

"Probably a few dollars," Mush said looking at the older man.  He answered a few more questions about his background and relationship with Hotshot before Denton came up.

"Mush," Denton used the name he was more used to, "Hotshot was a good friend of yours right?"

"Yeah she is."

"Do you and the other guys respect her?"

"Yeah, she don't act like she's better than us, an' you can trust her, so yeah."

"Do you believe what she says about her uncle and stepfather?"

"She's not the kind of person who would lie."

"Yes or no, Mush?"

"Yes."

Mush went back to his seat and Mr. Edwards called the next newsie, "Christopher Page."  Boot stumbled up to the stand trembling.  The questions Denton asked were almost the exact ones he had asked Mush.

"Boots how does Hotshot treat you and the other younger newsies?"

"Like everyone else," he said, "She treats everyone with respect, it don't matter how old they are.  All they gotta do is treat her with respect back."

"Do you believe what she says?"

"The only time she lies is when she's tellin' stories to the little kids.  An' when she's sellin' papes but all a us do that."

"Thank you Boots."

Boots walked back and took a seat next to Mush who whispered something in the younger boy's ear.  He smiled and laughed lightly as Edwards called the next name 'Kyle Dolan'.

Pickpocket was barely seated before the first question was asked, "What do you think of Ms. Lynn?"

"She's one a the smartest people I know."

"How so?"

"She's always got a plan, she's educated, she always knows what's goin' on, and she picks up on stuff real fast."

The next few pointed questions did no good for Edwards' defense.  Denton brought up the subject of respect again and asked Pickpocket about his relationship with Hotshot.

'Dennis Bennett' was called to the stand next.  Hotshot raised an eyebrow having never heard the name before.  Her eyes went wide when Rebel walked to the front of the room.

"How did Ms. Lynn act under your command?" Edwards asked after portraying the fact that Rebel had been the current leader of Brooklyn when she started selling there.

"She didn't." He simply stated.

"What do you mean?" Edwards was nervous.

"I mean," He said, "I told Spot to train her because I knew he'd be the next leader and he was closer to her age."

"Do you respect her?" was Denton's first questions.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Rebel smiled widely, "I don't know very many girls who, at the age of seven, would give a sixteen-year-old newsie a black eye.  She has guts an' for what she's been through I'd say she's tougher than a lot of the other newsies."

"Very good, do you trust her?"

"The only people that goil ever lied to were the bulls 'cause she didn't wanna get sent home."

Gabriel Conlon was called to the stand next.  He walked and sat down with the same hard look on his face the whole time.

"Since Ms. Lynn was under your command how did she act?"

Spot looked Edwards directly in the face, "She did what I said unless she saw reason not to."

"So you would say she didn't respect you?"

"She respected me and I respected her.  She just saw holes in my plans that would make it not work."

"Why are you a newsie Mr. Conlon?"

"It's betta than the alternative," Spot muttered coldly.

"Your parents are rich are they not?"

"They are."

"Then why would you want to stay on the streets?"

"Sometimes bein' poor and bein' respected by others is betta than havin' all the money in the world.  If I were at home I'd be getting' beat every night."

"Do you respect her, Spot?" Denton asked standing up.

"Always have," he said, "She's been t'rough enough to make anyone respect her."

"How much do you trust her?"

"Wit' me life."  He raised his gaze to meet Hotshot's and smiled at her.

When Steven Bryant's name was called he nearly jumped out of his skin.  A few of the newsies laughed as Skittery made his way up to the bench while others groaned.

"Mr. Bryant, have you ever played jokes on Ms. Lynn?"

"I didn't do it," Bumlets whispered Skittery's famous phrase to Dutchy.

"Yeah, when she first came we didn't want a goil around so we played a few jokes.  We shouldn't a though; she got us back."

"Do you believe whatever she tells you?"

"I don't got no reason not to 'less she's tryin' to sell papes, but then we all lie there."

After a few more useless questions Edwards took his seat and gave Denton the floor.  "Skittery, do you agree with the others that she deserves respect?"

He nodded, "She deserves more than she gets."

"Why is that?"

"She could fight Spot or Jack easy and win, an' she knows it too.  An' even though she could she doesn't try to beat 'em ta get a better position.  She works harder than most a us and she puts up with more than we gotta."

"So you trust her?"

"Long as she ain't mad at me.  That goil knows some great fighting moves."

As Skittery went back to his seat Hotshot put her face in her hands.  She'd been hoping none of them would bring it up.  The closing statements went as usual and Hotshot declined Denton's offer to show her Monday's schedule.

All of the newsies who were going to the Edwards' party/dinner that night stayed in the courtroom to hear Denton's instructions.  "Dress somewhat nicely and behave." Were the only instructions he gave, "The coach will come around to pick you up around five thirty."

Rebel, Spot, Jack, Dutchy, Mush, Bumlets, and Skittery began their walk back to the lodging house while the others walked back to the house.  They were inside before Racetrack asked, "So any a you's gonna dress up."

"Don't," Specs said, "I told the fellas at the lodgin' house an' I'll tell you; don' let anyone in that house make you feel lowed then them."

"Good," Race nodded, "'cause I don' got any nice clothes." 

"Well it's almost five now," Hotshot interrupted, looking at the pocket watch she'd inherited from her brother, "I'd say we should get ready."

"You gonna wear a dress?" David suggested

"When hell freezes over," she shot back coolly.  She walked down to her bedroom as they stared after her for a moment and then went to theirs.  Rosa was waiting by her closet holding up two dresses.  "You's gotta be joking," she muttered.

"Which one?" the maid asked.

"Neither!" she cried, "Rosa, no offence, but I'se been picking out my own clothes for a while now an' I don' need you to help me."

Rosa smiled, "I thought so.  You're wearing that then."  She pointed to Hotshot's outfit.

"This or sumthin' like it," she said.

"I just wish I could see the look on old man Pulitzer's face when you walk in," Rosa got a dreamy look in her eyes that made Hotshot laugh.  The older woman nodded and left the room.

Hotshot changed from the gray shirt she was wearing to a light green one.  Specs came into the room a few minutes later wearing his normal clothes.  A pair of boots, brown pants, a white shirt, suspenders under a light brown vest, and his fedora.  The only thing out of the ordinary was his jacket, which was worn only on special occasions.

They met David and Race downstairs a few minutes later to see that the two of them were also dressed simply.  The normal newsie clothes were sure to be a contrast with the finer clothing of other guests. 

Denton looked them over and muttered to himself when the coach stopped in front of the house.  The other seven newsies were all dressed normally and seated in the back of the coach.  They reached the Edwards' residence a few minutes after six.  Many guests were just getting there and gave the newsies odd looks.

When they were led inside Mr. Edwards frowned at their attire but allowed them in.  He met his son's eye instead of Denton's, "Would you like to introduce your friends Matthew."

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth, "This is Gabriel Conlon, Jack Kelly, Dennis Bennett, Robert Arroyo, Steven Bryant, Anthony Higgins, David Jacobs, Alexander Thomas, Dominic Lucero, and Brooke Lynn.  More commonly known as Spot Conlon, Jack, Rebel, Mush, Skittery, Racetrack, David, Dutchy, Bumlets, an' Hotshot."

His father glared at him and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.  They all continued inside except for Specs.  

"Where's my mother?"

"Living room," Edwards turned away from his son and greeted the next guest.

The newsies were all staring around the large entryway.  Mush's stares were not on the 

room itself but on the people, especially girls, who were walking through it.  "Have fun guys," Specs said allowing them to go where they pleased.  Most of them were out of the group in a hurry.  Only Skittery, Dutchy, Bumlets, and Hotshot stayed with him.  Specs smiled and led them to the living room.  His mother stood near the fireplace.  She hadn't changed a bit since the last time he had seen her.  His friends allowed him some space as he approached her.  "Mama," he said loud enough for only her to hear.  

She looked over at him from her search around the room for someone.  She looked at him, "excuse me?"

"It's me Mom, Matthew." 

She looked him over and a smile crossed her face as she hugged him, "Oh my God, look at you.  You must have grown at least two feet since the last time I saw you.  Where on earth have you been, and why didn't you write."

"I was a newsie Mom," he said, "I didn't write 'cause I know dad checks all the letters that come.  I didn't want him to come and drag me home."

She hugged him again, "Then I'm glad you stayed away.  My goodness, if I'd seen you on the street I wouldn't have recognized you."

"That was sort of the idea," Specs said as two younger girls came running up.

"Mama, Mama," the younger one called as they ran up.  She threw herself against her mother.

"Mama, why are there newsies at Dad's party?" the older one asked, not hating the fact that they were there, just confused.

"Because of this young man here," she said nodding at Specs.

The two girls looked at him.  The older one's jaw dropped and she leapt into his arms yelling, "Matt!"

He laughed, "Hey Maggie," as she hugged him.

The little girl suddenly jumped down and hit him violently in the arm, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Margaret Elizabeth," their mother gasped.

"I was a newsie Mags.  If I'd come back here Dad woulda killed me" He noticed that the younger child was still staring at him the same time as his sister.

"Who is he, Mama?" the young girl asked.

Mrs. Edwards picked her youngest daughter up, "This is your brother Matthew, Ana.  He left when you were three."

"Don't you remember, Ana," Margaret said, "He used to give us piggy back rides around the garden."

The girls nodded and smiled as she remembered.  "I thought you were shorter."

Specs' face broke into a wide grin as he laughed, "Well I was when I lived here but I grew up." He waved his friends over.  "Mom this is Skittery, Dutchy, Bumlets, and Hotshot."  Each of them nodded and added a polite greeting.  His sisters greeted them before walking away to join the party.  Skittery, Dutchy, and Bumlets also left.  

"I suppose you're the Brooke Lynn girl who my husband is going against in court," Mrs. Edwards addressed Hotshot.

"Yes Ma'am." Hotshot replied politely.

Specs slipped his hand into Hotshot's and began speaking to his mother again, "Where's Lily?  I sorta wanted to introduce Hotshot to her."

"She's upstairs in her room," Mrs. Edwards motioned up the stairs.

"Thank you," He led Hotshot across the room to the stairs.  Pulitzer's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he saw what she was wearing.  Specs paused for a second before pulling her up the stairs.

He knocked softly on a door and a reply of 'Come in' was heard.  He opened the door and the two of them entered the room, closing the door behind them.  

The girl glanced in the mirror in front of her briefly, "Benjamin, I told you I would be down before dinner and I will meet you-"

"I'm not Benjamin." Specs said.

She turned around and stood up, "Oh my goodness I'm so sorry I thought you were-"  Her gaze landed on his face and she dropped the glass of water that she held.  "Oh my God, Matt."  

Specs laughed walking up to her, "You got it quicker than Mom or Margaret."  He hugged his older sister and then held her back from him, "Who's Benjamin."

"Some guy dad thinks I should marry.  That's beside the point.  It's so good to see you." She hugged him again.  "It's been what, six years, at least."

"Seven," he whispered, "Lily, I'm so sorry.  I just couldn't stay here anymore.  He tried to kill me the night I left.  I'se got the scar to prove it." He pulled back his left sleeve quickly and pushed it back down again.  "Has he, umm… Has he still been hitting you?"

"Of course, he's not gonna stop Matt."  She said, "but I'm so glad you didn't come back.  The first year after you left he swore every night that he was gonna kill you if he ever saw you again.  He still blames everything on you now too.  Woah!  And when did you grow like two feet."

He smiled, "It's sorta nice to be looking down at you for once."

"Specs?" Hotshot's voice broke the silence.

He turned toward the door.  "Oh, Hotshot, I'm sorry."  He motioned for her to come over.

"Specs?" Lily asked, "Matt, why is she calling you Specs."

"I'm a newsie," he said, "Lily, this is my friend Hotshot, also known as Brooke Lynn."

She smiled, "The girl who Dad's scared is gonna beat him in court.  I like her already."  She wrapped a welcoming arm around Hotshot's shoulder as a servant called them down to dinner.  When the trio was halfway down the stairs Rebel came dashing up, 

"Specs. Hotshot.  We'se been lookin' all ova the place for you two.  Race had a bet goin' that you was makin' out in a closet."

Specs turned bright red as his sister asked, "You two are dating?"

"We were, but we're just friends now." He said, "Lily, this is Dennis Bennett the former leader of the Brooklyn newsies.  Rebel this is my sister Lily."

"Good evening Miss," Rebel said politely.  Only Hotshot noticed the smile they shared.  

At dinner Hotshot sat between Specs and Bumlets, and Lily sat between Rebel and Benjamin.  Lily talked most of the dinner with Rebel, which made Benjamin angry.  He was basically an older version of Daniel.  Bumlets leaned over and whispered, "Specs, it looks like your sister and Rebel are hitting it off."

"He better not try anything," Specs said."

"Specs," Hotshot hissed, "Rebel isn't like that.  He's a gentleman.  He won't do anything."

"Anything much anyway," Bumlets added.

"Bumlets, you aren't helping." Hotshot snapped.

"Am I supposed to?"

"Dominic." She warned.

"That's what I don't like about this trial.  Now you know all our first names, and I have a feeling they're going ta be used against us."

"Bumlets, you don't know me at all," she said putting a hand to her chest in mock insult, "I'll use your whole name against you."

Specs smiled, "In other words don't get on her bad side."

After dinner many of the guests including then newsies were invited into the living room.  Mr. Edwards wanted it to be men only so Hotshot sat with Lily just outside the door where they could hear everything but not be seen.  The room immediately separated into two groups.  The larger of the two was made up of Edwards and his supporters.  The second was the newsies, Denton, and a few supporters of what they were trying to do.  After a few minutes of hushed whispers and motions, the two groups began to combine.  

Mr. Edwards greeted a wealthy man who was just arriving.  "Ah, Mr. Conlon, I'm so glad you could make it.  Come meet our guests.  There's one of them I'm sure you would be interested in meeting."  

At hearing the name Conlon Hotshot sat more stiffly in her chair and upon seeing the man dove into the living room to find her friend.  She grabbed the first newsie she found, which happened to be Jack.  "Cowboy," she hissed, "We'se gots a big problem."

Jack and Rebel both looked at her immediately.  "Having to do with which one a us?"

"Spot."  

Rebel's and Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise.  Out of all the newsies there Spot was the one who stayed out of trouble the most.  And even if there was some sort of trouble that involved him he could get out of it.  "What's wrong?" Rebel asked.

"Mr. Conlon just got here and Mr. Edwards said he had a guest the old man might be interested in meeting."

Rebel's face didn't change as he spoke, "Me an' Spot gotta get outta here."

"Why you?" Jack asked glancing around the room for Spot.

"Wherever I am you can usually find Spot."

"How's Mista Conlon gonna know you?" Jack asked.

"Spot's me little bruddah," Rebel said, "I was born 'fore they got married so I got me mum's maiden name for a last name.  Spot was born afta they got married.  Why do ya think me an' Spot are so close.  We used ta get beat so much by the old man for shootin' slingshots.  Dad's sure to recognize him so we gotta get 'im outta here."

Hotshot ran off through the crowd, dodging guests to find newsies.  She saw Spot just as Mr. Edwards was hanging Mr. Conlon's coat in the closet as the two of them talked in the hall.  "Rebel," she called before grabbing Spot and hauling him away from the door.  He put up a fight against her.  "Damn, Spot, stop fighting.  You an' you brutha hafta get outta here."  This seemed to shock him and he her drag him over to Rebel, who was explaining the situation to Specs.  

"Who told you?" Spot shot at her instantly.

"I did," Rebel said grabing his younger brother by the back of his coat and pulling him away.  "C'mon, Gabe.  Dad's here, we gotta leave."

Spot's face didn't change because of the years he hadn't allowed emotion to show, but Hotshot was sure he would have gone pale if he hadn't trained himself.  "Leavin' for Brooklyn tonight," he told her, "The group'll be back tamarrow or Sunday."

Rebel and Spot turned to disappear through the crowd and out the back door but a firm hand landed on Spot's shoulder.  "Young Mr. Conlon, I believe there is someone here who would very much like to meet you."  Mr. Edwards spoke calmly as Spot's father walked up beside him.

Rebel had stopped and returned to Spot's side.  He pulled his brother from Mr. Edwards' grasp.  Spot found his brother's arm tightly around his shoulder.  Rebel stood there and looked his father calmly in the eye.   

"Dennis," the old man's face was tight and red with anger, "Gabriel, go get in the carriage outside and I will join the two of you shortly.  I have been searching for you for the past twelve years and all I have to say is you have a beating to look forward to when we get home."  When they didn't move he said again, "Go get in the carriage, now."

"No," Rebel said.

"What." The old man gasped, "How dare you-"

"Mom wanted me to take Gabe after she died. It's in her will and if you don't believe me you can go look for yourself.  All she wanted was for us to get away from you.  I'm twenty-seven so you can't make me come home.  Spot here is going to be eighteen in three months so it ain't even worth it.  I'll tell you right now if you think you's gonna take us back I'll tell 'em how you and Jonathan Pulitzer killed dat man and framed Lynn."  

Hotshot took a step back at the end of Rebel's statement.  Both Joe and Jonathan were there and she watched them turn and leave.  Her glance went back to Spot and he met her eyes with a hurt look.  

Mr. Conlon took a step forward as if to fight for ownership of them.  Rebel shot out another retort, "An' I'll fight you if you even try takin' Spot.  You might have lawyers ta help you but me an' Spot got a couple hundred who can fight so back off Old Man."  When their father didn't make any move toward them Rebel hauled Spot out through the back door.

"I can't believe you," Specs told his father, "You invite me back here to see you, mum, an' me sisters.  A course the only reason ya want me here is ta get some more newsies out of the way so you can win your court case.  What is your problem?"

"Why you insolent little stray-"

"Forget it!" Specs shouted meeting his father's deadly glare.  He turned to his friends, who had all clustered behind him, "Let's go!"  They all filed toward the door not even bothering to look behind them.  Specs took Hotshot's arm and turned to his father once more, "Just stay away from me and my friends and we'll get along."  He mumbled a quick reply to his mother and sisters and walked out the door.  

The carriage on the way back to the mansion was silent.  It had been decided that they would all stay that night.  Hotshot rushed up to her room where Spot was waiting at the window, "I'm so sorry," he said before she could speak, "I wanted to tell you but Reb made me promise not to."

"Rebel doesn't control you, Spot," she snapped, "Until I saw him and your father around you tonight I had never seen you even be ordered around before.  What do you want me to think?"

"They don't control me," he shot back, "I just listen to Rebel 'cause I trust him.  We're gonna help you now.  We'll help get your dad outta jail an' I'll got to Brooklyn.

"Thank you Spot," she whispered it to empty air because he was already out the window.  


	17. Blackjack

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 17

**By Megan**

            Specs was in her room the next morning when she woke up. One arm was wrapped around her waist and his shirt was lying across the end of the bed.  She rolled over and pushed herself into a sitting position.  The movement caused her friend to stir but not wake up.  She decided not to get out of bed and just sat there staring off into space, thinking about the events in the past twenty-four hours.  Everything that had happened would cause a huge impact on her future.

            "So what'd Spot have to say last night?"  

            She looked down into Specs' open brown eyes.  He smiled at her as he rolled over onto his back and stretched.  "We talked," she said, "He's snooping around in Brooklyn today."

            He sat up and kissed her forehead, "I'm sorry about last night."

            "Don't be.  Your dad's an ass.  He's a man, it's his nature."

            "I resent that," Specs said shoving her lightly.

            "Newsies are exempt from that comment." She shoved him back and sent him flying off the bed to the floor.  He muttered incoherently as she looked over the edge at him.  "If it's any consolation I think you look better than Mush with your shirt off."

            "Don't let him here you say that.  He an' Race'll have a rumor we're together again through Manhattan within the hour."

            All of the newsies other than those staying in the house were gone when they got downstairs, except Rebel.

            "I thought you were going with Spot," she said sitting down and getting some breakfast.

            "He needed to get away from me for a while.  We talked on the way over here about…" he trailed off, "I'm sorry Brooke, but we were getting out of the refuge when we saw us and couldn't afford to get caught again.  And I sort of threatened him."

            "Forget it," she told him, "I talked to Spot so as long as you two testify we're fine."  She didn't say anything as he left the house and ran to join the newsies selling in the streets.

            After noon Racetrack approached her with a deck of cards and they started a poker game with the other newsies.  The only interruption came around one, when the doorbell rang.  David opened the door and let Bumlets in.  He was panting and unable to speak.  Hotshot ran to the kitchen and filled a glass of water for him.  As she was returning Spot ran in the kitchen door yelling, "Hotshot, we found something."  He followed her back to the living room and watched Bumlets gulp down the glass of water.

            "Why on earth did you run all the way here, and where from?" David asked.

            "The hospital," Bumlets gasped, "Jack sent me from the hospital." He was starting to regain the ability to talk.

            "Kid," Specs said the even shorter nickname half of the newsies used for Kid Blink.

            "Blink," Racetrack said at the same time, using the name the other half used.

            "Bumlets, what happened to Kid Blink," her voice shook as she spoke.

            "He had an attack.  It was real bad.  Jack wants you to come up ta the hospital in case something happens."

            She grabbed her boots and threw them on not even bothering to tie the laces.  She didn't even wait for Bumlets to catch his breath before taking off out the door.  All except for Spot were close behind.  Spot waited for the Manhattan newsie to catch his breath before they followed.

            "I need to get into Trey Parker's room she told the nurse.  When the woman gave reason that Hotshot couldn't go in she shot back; "I'm paying for his treatment so let me go see him."  Kid's doctor walked by at the same moment and recognized her.

            Jack was standing next to Kid Blink's bed when she got there.  "Jack?"  

            "Figures she wants ta see you 'stead a me," a weak voice said.

            Jack released Blink's hand and let Hotshot take it.  "How you doin' Kid?" she asked.  He was pale and looked horrible.  He barely had the strength to grasp her hand.

            "Not so great," he said truthfully as Jack took a step back from the bed.

            "He's been havin' those long attacks all morning," Jack whispered in her ear.

            "That'll make it even better to get back out and selling," he told her, attempting to smile.    

            "You'll be back out and selling in no time.  Don't worry about it," she paused, "Jack here might wanna keep you in recovery for a few weeks but we still have time to work on him."  She glanced over her shoulder at Jack.  His face was stern but there was a smile on it.  Kid Blink was just shaking his head as he laughed lightly.  As he started to cough a panicked look came over his face.  The coughing went from bad to worse and he seemed to have trouble breathing.  

            Hotshot took a few steps toward Jack and said quickly, "Cowboy, go get a doctor."

            He didn't move; just stood there watching her and the boy on the hospital bed having a coughing fit.

            "Jack!"  She stepped to go past him and do it herself, but he grabbed her arm to stop him.

            "Don't bother," he whispered.

            "What!? Jack, what's wrong wit' you."

            "The doctas said they don't think he has a chance a makin' it.  I thought you might wanna see him before he…" Jack trailed off.

              She took a step back and slapped him.  A look of shock covered his face and he stepped back.  "Go get a doctor, now." She spoke inn a firm voice and glared at him.

            Jack disappeared and entered the room a few seconds later with a doctor.  "I'm sorry," the man said, "but there's really not a lot more we can do for him."

            "Well than let another doctor try," Spot said coming into the room followed by the others and another doctor, "His guardian's name is Andres Lynn.  You treated him John Pulitzer, an' Brooke 'bout five years ago.  Andres jus' found out 'bout Trey's condition and he wants you to do everythin' possible."  

            At these words the new doctor organized a team and drove the newsies out of the room.  An hour later they revealed that the boy had slipped into a coma.  They all went back into the room and settled in different places.  Hotshot rubbed her hands over her face wearily; everything was going downhill very fast.  "What are we gonna do when they find out about Andres, Spot?"

"Nothing."

"Come again?"

"You know how you's stepdad ended up bein' alive after all?"

She sat up from her slouched position, "What."

"The Pulitzer's have him locked in the Brooklyn house's attic.  They give him food about once a month.  He wants me to bring you down."

She was on her feet in a minute but then looked over at Kid Blink.  

"The doctors say," Jack said entering the room and catching her attention, "that since he made it this long he's got a good chance of waking up.  We just need to get all a us except one outta here in an hour and he'll let someone stay."  

She almost hugged him as she jumped up, "Who's staying?"

"Me an' Bumlets'll go wit' you to Brooklyn if you pick someone else."

"Specs," she said, "Will you please stay here with him."

He nodded and everyone began to file out of the room.  He held Hotshot back for a minute, "How'd Jack get that red mark on his cheek?"

She blushed, "He was bein' an ass so I slapped him."

He smiled and spoke in a singsong voice; "You'll hear it about that later."

"Just stay until he wakes up."

She walked outside to where everyone was waiting, "Let's go."

She and Spot beat the others to the house.  When they reached the door to the attic there were several Brooklyn newsies waiting on the landing.  "I don't have the key," she realized.

"What?" Racetrack looked at her confused.

"The key I gave you, Spot," she turned to him, "it doesn't open the attic door."

"I know that," Spot said.

"Then how are we getting' him out.  Locky ain't here."

"You gave me this key," Spot threw it back to her.  He reached under his shirt and pulled out the key that hung on a piece of rope.  "Two days before the accident your brother gave me this key."  He took it off his neck and unlocked the door.

Andres stumbled out looking the same as always, yet completely different.  He wore the same newsie style clothes as always and his face held the same expression.  His hair was as short as always but he was thinner and very pale.  He made his way over to her and Spot and spoke, "Alright, which one a you bums is buyin' me dinner?"

Spot laughed and Hotshot hugged him, "Let's get you outta this house."  The large group made their way to Tibby's and Spot introduced the older boy, who had immediately gone back to being called Blackjack, to all of the new newsies.  His sister also filled him in on the current situation.  They visited Denton during the afternoon and added him to the witness list.  

That night on the way back to the Manhattan house the two of them stopped by the hospital.  She led Andres to the room where their friends were.  "Blackjack, this is Specs," she said, "an' the kid in the bed is Kid Blink.  Specs this is my brother Andres, or Blackjack.  How is he?"

"Didn't wake up but he stirred a few times.  They said that's a good sign."

As her brother took a seat she remained standing and rubbed her hands over her face again.

Specs got up and put an arm around her shoulder, "He'll be alright, calm down.  You got more important things to deal with anyway."

"Not more important," she sat down with him, "Just sumthin' people make a bigger deal about."

"So otha than Spot is this the only guy you dated?" her brother's voice broke an eerie silence on the walk home.

"Andres," she groaned.

"Well is he?"

"Yeah," she said.

"And…?"

"And what?  He's just a friend now."

"And when you were together?"

"When we were together he was a perfect gentleman.  Better than Spot.  Ran away from his dad who happens to be Pulitzer's lawyer so he's educated."

"Let's think.  What can I say about poor little Spot."

She laughed, "No comment."

Andres spent the rest of the weekend with the Manhattan newsies selling papes and getting into trouble.  He got used to the schedule faster than most did after taking a few days off.  He stayed at the lodging house while the others came to the court.  It was mostly the same as Friday had been.  Edwards' questions tried to prove that the boys were a bad influence on her while Denton's were about respect, trust, and other things to prove she had a right to stay where she wanted.

Because Specs was at the hospital with Kid Blink they'd changed the day he would be questioned.  His father had glared at her accusingly; thinking the reason Specs was at the hospital was so he wouldn't be questioned.  She met his gaze squarely and smiled.  Then she moved her glare to her stepfather.  Now she knew how to get him convicted of the murder he'd blamed on her father.

Jack and her stayed in the courtroom with Denton as the others filed out.  "Should we bring Blackjack?" Jack asked.

"No," Hotshot said simply.

"He's not ready to see anyone else yet," Denton explained, "Seeing so many of his friends and meeting everyone.  That plus getting back into the newsie schedule over the weekend took a lot out of him."

"Even if he'll never admit it," Hotshot added.

"Yes, he's just not up to it."

The ride to the state penitentiary was mostly a silent one except for the few attempts to start a conversation that came from Denton.  It wasn't that the teenagers didn't appreciate his efforts, they were just too nervous to talk. 

Denton walked up to the front counter and placed a piece of paper on the desk.  "We're here to see William Sullivan and Christian Lynn," he said calmly.

"Alright," said the man behind the desk, "Are you all seeing both of them or separately?"

Denton looked back at them.

"Together," they answered at the same time.

"Whom would you like to see first?"

"Whomever you can get here faster."

"That would be Mr. Sullivan," the man glanced at the list and missed Jack gulping, "I'll be back in a moment."  The guard disappeared through a door that led back to the prison.  When he came back he gave Denton a pass and spoke, "Go back to the third door on you right.  If you show the guard that pass he will let you in.  When you want to leave just knock on the glass and the guard will let you out.  Mr. Lynn will be in the fourth conference room in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Denton took the key and ushered the two down the narrow hall.  Hotshot was the only one who noticed that Jack was shaking.  "Do you want me to stand outside or stay against the back wall?"

"Come inside," Hotshot answered for Jack.

The Manhattan leader looked in the window and took a shuddering breath, "I can't do this."  He began to turn and tried to walk back to the front of the building.

"Jack," she grabbed his arm, "Calm down.  You've screamed at Pulitzer, how can this be hard?"

Denton opened the door and the three of them entered.  Denton stood against the back wall, just inside the door.  The two teens walked up to the table and sat in the two chairs on the side close to the door.  A large man who resembled Jack slightly sat on the other side.  The light was dim so it was not easy to see.

Even in the dark the man could see Jack trembling.  "Who are you?" he asked.

Jack cleared his throat, "Jack Kelly the Cowboy."  His voice sounded much calmer than he looked.

"Well Mr. Kelly, what can I do for you?" The man's face hadn't changed at all at Jack's aliases. 

"You don't recognize me do you?" Jack choked out.

"Should I?"

"Jack Kelly is my adopted name, to keep me safe from the bulls.  I'm Francis Sullivan."

"You making it alright out there?" His father's expression didn't change, "Got a good job?"

"I'm a newsie."

His father's face darkened, "A newsie," he laughed at the word, "That's the reason your mother died, the reason I'm in here."

"Whatta you mean?" Jack looked up confused.

"You. You killed her.  You put me in here."

"Dad-"

"She got sick because she had to work so hard to take care of you.  Then after she died I was left with that burden.  I had to spend _my money to take care of you."_

"You have no right to be disappointed in him," Hotshot stood up, "Do you know your son led the newsie strike a few months ago?  He stood up against the most powerful man in New York and won.  You should be proud of him."

"Newsies," the man explained to her, "Are the lowest of the people in New York, even lower than the beggars and pickpockets.  And girls like you are even lower than the boys."

"Don't talk ta her like that!" Jack yelled, "Don't you dare talk to my friends like that.  If you're disappointed yell at me but don't take it out on her."

"Fine, I'm disappointed.  You could have done something great but instead you chose to be the scum of the city."

            Denton stepped forward, "Sir, you may think being a newsie makes these two the scum of New York but your son has more respect than half of the officials in this city.  If that doesn't make him worthy of your approval then maybe you're not worthy of being his father.  C'mon you two, let's go."

            Jack stopped at the door as his father called after him; "I'm sorry Francis."

            Jack turned around with Spot's stone-face on, "It's too late old man.  I'll tell you right now, you ain't ever gonna see me again."  He left the room with Denton and Hotshot and only let it fall once the door was closed.  "Gimme a minute." He sat against the wall and let a tear run down his face.

            "Jack, I'm so sorry," Hotshot said sitting next to him.

            "Not much worse than I expected," he said, "I just sort of hoped he wouldn't be like that."

            "Hotshot?" Denton was standing at the next door, "It's now or never."

            She froze on the floor and felt Jacks hand on her arm, "Let's go then."  He had a slight smile on his face.

            "Wipe that smirk off your face Kelly, 'less you want me to slap you again."  She followed Denton into the room and they took the same positions.  She gasped at the sight of her father.  Like Andres he was pale and thin, but still full of life.

            "Good afternoon Mr. Lynn," Denton said leaning against the wall.

            "Good afternoon gentlemen," he smiled warmly, "Which one of you is here to see me?"

            "I am," Hotshot said quietly.

            "What can I do for you, young man?"

            Hotshot took a shaky breath, he didn't recognize her, "I want to reopen your case and get you out of here."

            "Why would you want to do that?"

            "Because you're my father."

            "No, you must be mistaken," he looked her over, "You couldn't be either of my sons."

            It was then that she realized that she was still wearing her hat.  She pulled it off, "What about your daughters?  Brooke."

            His face went even paler, "Brooke.  My God I haven't seen any of you in so long.  I know your mother married Jonathan, how is everyone?"

            "They didn't tell you?"

            "Tell me what?"

            "Verdomme.  Dad I didn't wanna be the one to tell you this but five years ago, when I was twelve, there was an accident.  The carriage tipped over and mom and the twins died.  When I woke up they said Jonathan and Andres were in critical condition.  I got sent to stay with Pulitzer and no one told me what happened.  They're both alive but Andres couldn't come."

            Her father looked less shocked than she expected him to. "I heard rumors," he said, "but I don't want you swearing in any language.  So why are you here now?"

            She explained to him about the court battle, finding Andres, and how Rebel and Spot had seen the killing.  He only nodded as she told him who had done it. 

            "If you haven't been with Pulitzer where have you been?" he asked.

            "When I was seven Andres introduced me to some newsies.  After the accident I stayed with the newsies in Brooklyn.  A was second in command until a few months ago.  Spot, the leader, sent me to Manhattan 'cause Pulitzer sent some detectives out to find me.  This is my friend-"

            "Jack Kelly," he nodded, "I've heard about the strike.  That's the biggest news story we've heard in here in a few years.  But we never found out how it ended because the guard who told us about it was fired.  You beat 'em right Jack?"

            "Yes Sir," Jack smiled, "We got all the woikin' kids in New York togetha an' we beat 'em.  Hotshot wasn't there but I know she helped talk Spot into coming ta Manhattan."

            "How's it been in here, Dad?" she asked hesitantly.

            "Just like the refuge when I was a kid," he said, "I trust you and your brother were never in there."  He raised an eyebrow at her.

            "No sir, we avoided trouble more than the other newsies.  That and we had them to hide us if we did get in trouble."

            "Good, it's been rough but I lived through it.  Now you were second in command in Brooklyn?"  He looked at her with an impressed look.

            "Yeah, you left Dock in charge when you left, right?"

            "Yes."

            "Well he left this guy called Rebel in charge when he left.  Rebel was leader when Andres brought me and he was one of Andres' friends.  Anyway Andres left me with Spot because everyone knew Rebel was gonna leave him as leader.  Spot taught me how to fight, and sell and, everything.  I sold with Spot and Lockpick so when Spot became leader Lock and me were second in command.  He chose whichever one of us was better for any situation and left the other in charge of the newsies."

            "Isn't that Spot kid kinda scrawny?" he asked remembering the picture.

            Jack gulped at the comment but Hotshot laughed, "He is on the small side but no one will make fun of him.  He's a really good fighter.  I'm one of the few people who can get away with making fun of him, reason being that I'm a girl.  He's also got an attitude and glare that. I swear to God, can stop any newsie dead in his tracks."

            "I'm very proud of you."

            "Thanks Dad," she introduced him to Denton and left the two of them to talk while she and Jack moved into one of the corners.

            A guard came in a few minutes later, "Visiting hours are over."

            "Bye Dad," Hotshot said as they filed out of the room.  Jack was coming back to the mansion for the night so the carriage dropped them both off there.

            "You know there's a price for Jack coming today and for him staying here." Denton told her after Jack had gone inside.

            "I figured, so what do I have to do?"****

            "Visit the Pulitzers on Wednesday.  I'm sorry."

**            "I'll survive," she turned and went inside.  She joined the three newsies in one of the rooms where they were playing poker.  She sat down and they all looked at her as she spoke, "Deal me in.  Prepare to lose."**

            "Stress?" Racetrack asked.

            "You have no idea."   


	18. Family Problems

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 18

**By Megan**

            The next morning Jack woke her up, "Hey Hotshot, C'mon we gotta leave in half an hour."

            "What?" she sat up looking around.

            "What's wrong wit' you.  Usually you's the first one awake."

            "I ain't been sleepin' good lately."

            "Well the newsies will exhaust you after court today.  Now get out of bed and get ready to go."  

            She threw a pillow at him as he left the room and mumbled as she pulled out some clean clothes.  She grabbed a piece of bread on her way through the kitchen.  A carriage picked them up and went to the courthouse.  Denton was questioning the newsies now so Hotshot could relax a little.  She grabbed Bumlets by the front of his shirt and dragged him up to the table with her.

            "How's Kid Blink?" She asked him because it was his job to go to the hospital two or three times a day to find out if there was any change in their friend's condition.

            He shook his head, "No change," he said. 

            She slumped into her seat in an exhausted manner.

            "Well, except for the fact that he was stirring this morning, real early like t'ree or four, and he mumbled somethin' last night."

            Her eyes went wide with excitement and then narrowed at him, "Are you tryin' ta gimme a heart attack or sumthin'?"

            "Made ya feel better, didn't it?"

            "I swear that if I didn't hafta behave durin' the trial I'd soak ya right now."

            "Tell you what then.  If I hear anything else you'll be the first person I tell."  He unintentionally ran his thumb over his nose, remembering the bloody nose he'd gotten for sneaking up on her during her first few weeks in Manhattan.  

            She shook her head, watching him, "What about Specs?  Does he want someone else to take his place yet?"

            "No, he doesn't mind being there.  Did you know his dad visited him the other day?"

            "His dad?  The lawyer?  What happened?"

            "Specs said if he hadn't been in a hospital he woulda screamed for him to get out.  His dad and him just watched each other for a minute.  Didn't tell me what they talked about but he told me he wanted you to drop by this afternoon if you weren't busy."

            She nodded and her friend seized the opportunity and returned to his seat.  She was going to turn around and talk to some of the other guys but the judge entered the room.

            That day Denton questioned three of the Brooklyn newsies; Roman, Swinger, and Caps.  He also questioned both of the Delancy's and Rosa.  The only one who gave Edwards anything he could use against her were the Delancy's.  

            When the judge dismissed them she turned to Denton, "Do I have anything to do this afternoon?"  She asked the question knowing there were probably some legal issues they needed to look over.  

            Denton looked toward the door where a dozen or so newsies were waiting.  "Get out of here.  I don't want to see you until tomorrow."

            "Thanks Denton!" she ran off to join them.  She sold with them for two hours and then split from the group and ran to the hospital.  Specs was entertaining himself with a deck of cards in Kid Blink's room.  

            "So how is he?" 

            The sound of her voice caused Specs to jump and he dropped the cards that were in his hand.  She scooped them up and placed them on the table with the rest of the deck, "Any change?"

            "He stirred a few times but no, he ain't woken up." Specs answered what he knew she wanted to ask.  She took a seat and watched the boy in the bed.  Specs watched as her eyes slowly drifted to him.  He sighed, "I suppose Bumlets can't keep his mouth shut and told you about me dad visiting."

            "Yeah, what'd you two talk about?"

            "I just sat and listened.  He talked about how much mum and the girls want me to come home and how inconvenient it was that I was part of this case.  He went off on some random topics and said sumthin' 'bout you.  I swear I heard Daniel say the same thing the first week we was in your house.  I told him if he was gonna be in here he had to respect my friends.  He just told me he wished I'd come home and end everyone's suffering.  I asked him to get out."

            "And he just left?" she sat back in her chair, skeptical.

            "He walked to the door and stopped.  It was so weird; he just turns and says 'I hope your friend pulls through'.  The way he said it was plausible too.  I'se been sittin' 'round all day just thinkin' 'bout everything he said."

            "Specs, do you want someone else to take over for you here. I mean, you've been here since Friday."

            "No," he insisted, "no, I wanna be here when he wakes up."  He gripped a strangely shaped piece of fabric in his fist.

            "Specs, what'sat?"

            "His eye patch," Specs smoothed it out on the table between him and Kid Blink's bed.

            Hotshot looked over at Kid Blink; she'd never seen him without his patch before.  His right eye looked normal, but his left one was different.  It was slightly bluish in color, like a permanent black eye, and showed scarring from stitches.  Bits of white and red also flecked certain areas.  She took a deep breath, thinking of all the times she'd heard people saying Kid Blink's eye patch was just to sell more papes.  "What happened to 'im?" she asked Specs.

            Specs shuddered, "The short version is that his dad beat him an' his sista an' brudah.  His siblings are with a family friend up in Massachusetts or New Hampshire and he sends them the money he makes.    His dad came home drunk one night and hit him in the eye with a very, very hot fire poker.  It did permanent damage; his eye's sealed shut.  So he wears an eye patch to cover it up.  Came into the lodging house a few months afta me wit' the eye showin'.  Ambition an' Jack made sure he was ok, then Needles made him the patch.  One guy made fun a him.  We were just callin' him 'Kid' at this point so the guy starts makin' a joke 'bout his patch, callin' him a pickpocket, sorta like a pirate.  Kid was on him in the Blink of an eye so I came up wit' Kid Blink."

            "Do people still call him a pirate?"

            "Yeah, we get on his case sometimes, he just laughs along wit' us.  But never call him a pickpocket."

            "I wouldn't.  That's Race's job anyway.  You came up with his name?"

            "Yeah, I dunno.  It jus' came ta me.  He liked it and the other guys that're here now liked it so it stuck."      

            She picked up his hand and stared at him for a minute.  A smile crossed her face and she laughed.  "I cant' figure it out.  Every single one a you looks like an innocent little kid when you sleep."

            "What're you talkin' about.  I am always innocent."

            "If you're innocent then I'm a Delancy," she said shaking her head, "I'm serious Specs.  He looks real innocent when he sleeps, and years younger."

            "He's seventeen," Specs commented.

            "She shrugged, "I woulda guessed sixteen.  Right now, he looks like he's thirteen or fourteen.  Weird."

            She left the hospital that day, walking alone toward the other end of the district.  Specs had advised her to wait for one of the other newsies, but as always, she ignored his advice.  She was close to halfway back when the arm dodged around her neck in a Brooklyn-style fighting method.  She would have fought, except for the fact that the hand held a very sharp knife.

            "If that's you Mitchell," she warned, "Half the Brooklyn an' Manhattan newsies are in the lodging' house 'cross the square."  He loosened his hold enough to give her the advantage she needed.  With one hand she gripped his wrist, causing him to drop the knife.  Using the other she propelled him over her shoulder.  In one swift motion she'd scooped the knife up and had the tip against his throat.  It was then that she got her first look at his face.  "Jerk!" she yelled standing and pitching the knife to the ground.  He got up and followed her as she stormed off.

            "Hey, you know I'se sorry.  I didn't mean any harm by it.  Jus' wanted to see if you still had it in you to be considered a Brooklyn newsie." He apologized.

            "Spot ain't kicked me out, has he!" she spat back.

            "No.  I said I was sorry.  Where were you comin' from jus' now?"

            "The hospital," she slowed her pace, "I was visiting Kid Blink."

            "He's a nice kid?"

            "Yes, the first one I met here."

            "So what'd you and Dad talk 'bout the other day?"

            She turned to her brother, "What happened since he got put in jail.  They didn't tell him about mum, an' the twins.  Not a single word about the accident." 

            "Lemme come next time, will you.  I'd like to see him."

            "Sure Andres.  C'mon in.  Specs ain't stayin' in your room no more so you can have it back."

            Since her brother was both smart and a good card player he fit in perfectly with David and Race.  That left Hotshot free to do whatever she wanted all afternoon.  Unfortunately, it didn't help her worry any less about the case and she slept horribly that night. 

            The next morning didn't make her feel much better.  She overslept again and Daniel made sure to remind her of the afternoon's arrangements.  When Andres convinced her to tell him where she was going he insisted on coming along.  She refused because he wasn't even allowed in the courtroom.  Edwards had convinced the judge that her brother would bring false information to the case.  

            "You look like you could use a few more hours a sleep," Jack said after she snapped at Mush.  

            "You have no idea," she mumbled, collapsing into her chair, "I think I got 'bout an hour a sleep last night."

            "You should come back to the lodging house tonight," Mush suggested.

            "Can't.  The court don't allow it and I hafta go ta Pulitzer's this aftanoon so I can't even go out sellin'."

            "Why you goin' ta Pulitzer's?" Mush asked.

            Before she could say anything Jack spoke for her, "'Cause I stayed at her mansion for a night an' she brought me to visit me dad."

            She nodded, confirming it.

            "You didn't hafta let me do any a those things!"

            "An' you didn't hafta let me stay at the lodging house.  Exactly how many times did ya tell me 'Sumtimes you's more trouble than you's worth.' while I was there?"

            "I say that 'bout everybody." He argued.

            "But sometimes ya kick 'em out," Mush supplied, recieving a look from Jack for his comment, "What? It's true!"

            "Tell you what," she ended their argument before it could get any bigger, "I'll come to the lodging house for a night this weekend.  Denton an' Rosa won't ever know.  I'll just tell her I'se sellin' early and sneak out late."

            "I'se gonna hold ya to that," came the threat as she turned around.  She smiled through the day's proceedings after hearing that comment.   She was already sure that if she had to put up with Jonathan and Joe all afternoon she'd be wishing the whole time that she was in the lodging house.  

            When the judge ended the questioning for the day many of the newsies stopped on the front steps of the courthouse.  "Don't try to start trouble," Denton instructed her as he walked her outside, "you only need to stay until five thirty."  Other words of comfort and advice flooded toward her as she walked down and got into the Pulitzer's coach.  Joseph Pulitzer, Edwards, Daniel Taylor, and Mr. Conlon were the only other people in the carriage.  She'd known most of them would be there, but fixed Mr. Conlon with a deadly gaze until the carriage pulled away from the curb. 

            "Now, let's talk about this," Pulitzer took a paper from Mr. Edwards.  "You know that articles have been published about this case in many papers, including my own."

            She glanced at the familiar article with a nod; Race had given her one of his extra papes a few days before without seeing the article.  "So."

            "I'll tell you what I told your friend Jack during the strike; I tell this city how to think, and I tell them how to vote."

            "I'm aware of that."

            "The people in this city include Judge Monahan.  I can easily give him reason to give me custody."  The carriage stopped in front of his house.

            "You could," she agreed, "but as you said before Joe, other papers are covering this too, and I know many of them would love to put you out of business.  It all depends on which papers get to the judge.  I have friends who can make sure the judge doesn't read the World during the battle Joe.  You forget so easily that you don't have all the power anymore."  She climbed out of the carriage and walked into the house with many of them staring after her for a moment before following. 

            She spent until three in Pulitzer's office listening to the men talk about the court battle and how well off they were.  They even spoke of things for her father's case.  Because she was a girl they figured she wouldn't know how to use what they said against them.  When Pulitzer or Daniel addressed her directly she replied, but mostly kept silent and listened.  Until four she was forced to listen to Daniel talk of how great their life would be once they were married.    

            "Your father wishes to see you," Joseph Pulitzer interrupted Daniel's description of their house. He motioned to Jonathan's office.

            "He's not my father," she hissed, "If I were related to scum like you I'd have run away long ago and gotten far away from New York."  She walked into the office knowing she was leaving the old man steaming behind her.

            She sat down at the desk in Jonathan's office watching him.  He stood at the window behind his desk, looking out at the road below.  "So Jonathan," she said, "How's Andres?  Oh wait, he wasn't in the attic last time they checked."  She used the helpful bit of information she'd received from Spot.  

            The older man turned around and slapped her but she was prepared for it and turned her head enough to avoid most of the pain, "He is still in my custody and must be returned."

            "He's almost twenty-one, in case you forgot.  He's been able to leave for three years.  You'll be lucky if he doesn't press charges."

            "The police can take him from that lodging house with an order from your uncle." He warned.

            "Which one?" she asked, "He's got a lot of friends.  He could be in any lodging house in New York in less than an hour."

            She wasn't prepared when he pushed her chair.  The light piece of furniture tipped and sent her sailing to the floor.  She should have jumped up quickly, but paused giving him enough time to move beside her.  A few kicks in the ribs kept her there.  "You and you brother are both insolent little brats." He spat on the floor beside her, "I know very well that you went to your father and I will make sure you do not do so again.  Not only will he remain in jail but you will remain in this household after the trial."

            She kept her eyes squeezed shut as he stalked to the other side of the room.  She finally took the chance of opening them just in time to feel the familiar sting of the whip across her back.  She bit her lip, stifling the cry, and balled her hands into fists.  Warm blood was seeping through her shirts and spreading across her back.  When Jonathan was content with her beating he placed his weapon back in its hiding place and left the room.  Hotshot remained on the floor for a moment, hissing in pain, and carefully pushed herself up.  She licked her lip where she'd drawn blood and examined the scratches on her hand quickly.  When she dared to look up at the clock she almost smiled.  It was past five thirty so she could leave.  She met Pulitzer on her way to the front door.

            "Just where do you think you're going?" he asked.

            "Home," she hissed at him, "I only had ta stay 'til five thirty, an' it's almost six."

            "Would you like to stay for dinner?" he offered.  Obviously there was more he wanted to discuss.

            "Get outta me way old man!" she pushed past him and slammed the door behind her.  Once outside she began running down the street.  Not only did this bring more blood to the lashes across her back, but it also caused terrible pain.  Since no one was around to hear her she cried out.  She stopped at the gate and then began walking, not in the direction of her house but toward the lodging house.  Walking meant it took her longer than usual to get there.  She didn't want to deal with Kloppman fussing over her so she climbed up the fire escape, hoping most of the newsies would be out selling or downstairs.  She groaned seeing the room crowded with her friends, from both Brooklyn and Manhattan, but reluctantly knocked on the window.

            Skittery was the only one who heard it, as the others were all intently watching a card game between Race, Royal, and Ace.  He turned and walked over to the window and opened the window.  "Whatcha doin' here?" he whispered getting the idea she didn't want everyone's attention at the moment.

            "Help me," she said motioning that she needed help getting to the floor.

            Skittery was concerned but didn't question her.  He held one of her arms and helped her climb down from the window.  He walked with her to one of the bunks and saw the blood that soaked her shirt as she sat down. "What the-" he stopped himself mid sentence, "Who ya want me to get?"

            "Jack, Snoddy, Wiser, an' Roman.  An' Skit, please don't draw a lot of attention to me."

            "Spot?  Blackjack?"

            "I'll tell you when to get them."  She wasn't ready to see either of them just yet.

            Skittery scurried into the crowd and returned with the newsies she'd requested a few minutes later.  As soon as Jack saw the blood he turned to call Spot over.

            She grabbed the front of his shirt, "Not yet."  It was more of a strained plea than a command.

            The other three looked at her back and retrieved some medicine from downstairs to clean the lashes up.  Roman squeezed her hand as the other two cleaned each cut with the burning liquid.  "Skittery, go get them," she said when they were halfway done.  Skittery knew who she was and darted off into the crowd again.  Her brother came willingly and was pretty sure he knew what had happened.  Spot was lecturing Skittery about dragging him away from the game.  When he saw Hotshot his face paled and he stopped dead in his tracks.  "Nice to know you care," she said as Wiser began bandaging her back.

            "Who?"

            "Spot, you can't do anything so don't bother."  She hissed in pain and squeezed Roman's hand as Snoddy's hand accidentally brushed over one of the cuts.  "Andres, they know youse out so don't go near the Pulitzer place or the courthouse."

            "Shouldn't you go ta the hospital or sumthin'?" Spot questioned.

            "Spottie," she used the nickname he hated.  She was one of the few who could get away with addressing him with it, "They're not as bad as they look.  He's done worse before.  If I clean an' bandage 'em they'll heal in a week or so."

            He stared at her for a moment, before turning away and sitting down.

            "It wasn't bad as usual?" Her brother made sure she wasn't lying.

            "No, it barely broke the skin.  The old man's outta practice."

            "Just the same, maybe you should stay here tonight."  Jack suggested it and obviously the others agreed with him because they voiced their opinions. 

            "I can't," she said, "and you know it.  If I don't turn up by curfew Pulitzer'll have the bulls here in less than an hour.  I'll get dragged back to that God-awful house."

            Skittery found some extra shirts that would fit her in storage and brought them up to the bunkroom.  She changed into them and came out to find the guys saving her seat.  It was around then that a few of the newsies began noticing that she was there.  Those who knew where she had been asked her how it was.  She told them everything had gone fine and that she had gotten out of there as soon as she was allowed, a lie.  It was better that she not involve more people than she needed to.

            The game ended with Racetrack being victorious, but just barely.  He and David picked up anything they brought, and Racetrack packed up his winnings.  Hotshot pulled Bumlets along with her when the group left.  He was going to visit Specs and Kid Blink before curfew and she needed him to tell specs something.  "Not tonight, Friday night, get someone else to go to the hospital and make him take the night off.  He needs to take a full twenty four hours away from that place or he'll go insane."

            "Alright," Bumlets was already thinking of whom he would stick in the hospital in Specs' place, "How's your back?"

               "How'd ya know?" she looked at him.

            "I looked over when Skittery came rushin' through ta get Jack.  Plus there's some blood showin' on that shirt."  He nodded toward the bundle of clothing in her arms.  "So am I dismissed?"

            She nodded, "Get outta here."  As he turned in the direction of the hospital she increased her speed slightly to catch up with Race and David.

            The next day Spot, and Jack forced her to show Denton her new cuts.  He told her not to wash her bloodied clothes because they could be used for evidence.  She agreed and moved into a more comfortable position on the bench.  While the scratches no longer hurt her back was sore.

            Kloppman was the main person who was being questioned that day and none of the newsies were sure what to think of the old man testifying.  He could help them, but then, he had also done some things over the past few years that could hurt the defense.

            "Mr. Kloppman," Denton began, "You are the caretaker of the newsboys lodging house in Manhattan, correct?"

            "That's correct."

            "Do you know all the newsies that live in your lodging house, Sir?"

            "Yes I do.  I know every single newsie in the place.  They bring all the new newsies to me to make sure I meet 'em and start a record on them."

            "So you knew Miss Lynn?"

            "I knew her as Hotshot, but yes, I knew her."

            "Why did you let her stay?  I mean she was a girl and there was a newsgirls lodging house just down the street."

            "It was important to Jack and the other boys that she stay with them and I don't mind as long as they don't."

            "Did she cause as much trouble as the other boys?"

            "No Mr. Denton, she barely caused any.  The only things she did were give a few black eyes and bloody noses.  And she beat 'em all at cards, coulda just taken their paychecks, she beat 'em so much."

            "Ugh, don' remind me Kloppman," Race muttered from the seat behind Hotshot.

            "What about outside the lodging house?"

            "Well she did get beat up once, but it wasn't 'cause she caused trouble.  She ain't never been in the refuge either so I say she ain't been in trouble that I know of."  

            "Thank you, Mr. Kloppman." Denton returned to his seat and Mr. Edwards stood.

            "Mr. Kloppman, are girls allowed in the newsboys lodging house?  If the boys have girlfriends or such."

            "Their girlfriends are allowed downstairs, but they can't go up to the bunkrooms," he said, "But not a lot of girls come to the lodging house."

            "Are there any other rules at the lodging house?"

            "Yes.  They have to pay two bits a night to stay there.  Curfew is at ten.  No girls upstairs.  New newsies should be brought to me.  Things like that."

            "Do the newsies follow these rules?"

            "Most of the time.  Sometimes they come in late or need to stay one or two nights for free."

            "Now, you let Miss Lynn stay even though she was a girl, am I correct?" 

            "Yessir."

            "Why?"

            "Because she'd been a newsie before and the boys insisted that she stay with us."

            "And she was allowed in the boys' bunkroom?"

            "I offered her a single room," Kloppman said, "But she'd been sharing a bunkroom with guys for about ten years so I let her.  She knew the rules and didn't really seem to be dating any of the guys.  She helped break up a few arguments too."

            "A few months ago didn't detective Joshua Kline come to your establishment and ask if Brooke Lynn was staying there?"

            "Yes he did."

            "Then why did you tell him she wasn't?  I thought all the newsies had to sign in nightly?"

            '"They do sign in but most of them use their nicknames.  Miss Lynn signed in as Hotshot every night."

            "What about the other boys?"

            "What about them?"

            "Did any of them ever cause trouble?"

            "Of course.  There were plenty of fights and arguments but the most they usually got hurt was a black eye."

            "What about outside the lodging house?  Were any of them ever sent to the refuge?"

            "Most of them have been in the refuge once or twice," Kloppman said, "A few of them heard about my lodging house while they were in the refuge and came when they got out."

            "Did you ever bail any of them out?"

            "Yes.  The other boys would tell me why someone got arrested and if it was unfair I would pay the fine.  None of the boys have been there since the strike ended though."

            "Ahh yes, the strike.  Which of the boys were sent to the refuge during the strike?   You know the night of the rally."

            "Umm, lemme think for a minute."  The old man paused to remember the night.  "Jack, Spot, Racetrack, Kid Blink, Mush, Bumlets, Pie Eater, Swifty, Itey, Snitch, Jake, Boots, Snipeshooter, Snoddy, Skittery, Dutchy, and Specs.  Crutchy was already in the refuge and the Jacobs' don't live in the lodging house.  David came by before going home and told me they'd all been arrested."

            "So your lodging house was empty that night?"

            "Yes sir."

            "Did the newsies pay you during the strike?  And did you reprimand them for getting into trouble?"

            "No, I let them stay for free and I figured being in the refuge for a night was punishment enough."

            "No further questions Your Honor."

            After court the newsies gathered around Hotshot outside.  "Don't sell the judge any copies of the World," she said, "all that's in it are his one-sided comments about the case."  Many of them nodded and they spent the afternoon selling.  

            The next day Medda was called to the stand.  

            "She stayed in your establishment for a few nights, right Medda?"  Denton asked.

            "Yes she did."

            "Did you ever let the boys stay in your establishment before?"

            "Yes, many of them stayed there when the police were after them."

            "Did you like Miss Lynn?  Obviously you care about the boys but how do you feel towards her?"

            "I treat her like I treat any other newsie.  In some ways I have to admit that I like her better.  When she stayed with me I thought that she was somewhat like me."

            "Medda, did the police come to the theater looking for her?"

            "No, they didn't think to look there."

            "Miss Larkson," Edwards asked, "If the detectives had come to the theater what would you have told them?"

            "That she wasn't there." Medda stated.

            "And risk going to jail?" 

            "Yes, she doesn't deserve to be going through something like this."

            "Did you ever reprimand her?"

            "I had to tell her to stay inside and remind her that no boys were allowed after curfew."

            "Did she have any visitors?"

            "Yes.  Miss Jacobs visited the second night and Specs, or Matthew Edwards was there the first night."

            Edwards cringed, "What did they do with her?"

            "She and Sarah played cards and talked in the kitchen.  Specs was playing poker with her in her bedroom when I found them."

            Hotshot glared behind her when a few whispers sped through the newsies, mostly at Racetrack.  The quiet murmur was also spreading through the other half of the courtroom like fire.

            "Order," the judge called and the room fell silent.

            "No further questions Your Honor," Edwards said turning back to his seat.  He smiled at Hotshot and she just glared at him.  They were released less than an hour later.  Hotshot escaped to the steps with the other newsies before any reporters could see her.

            "So was it Strip Poker?"

            She turned to find Snoddy standing behind her, grinning widely.

            "Well, Was it?"

            "Racetrack!" she yelled turning.  The shorter Italian froze and looked at her.  As she took one step toward him he began to race through the crowd of newsies.  She took off after him.  "I swear Race, when I catch you I'm gonna kill you!"    


	19. Men!

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 19

By Megan

            She returned to her house alone a few hours later.  Rosa was in the kitchen so she tried to sneak upstairs.  Unfortunately, Rubin was coming down them.  "My God, what happened to you?"  His yelling sent Rosa rushing out of the kitchen.

            "Brooke, who did this to you?  Which one of those newsies beat you up?"

            She turned to face the older woman.  Her clothes were muddy and torn but not bloody.  In fact, there wasn't a scratch on her.  "What?  This?"

            "Yes this.  Which one of them beat you up?"

            "This is nothin'.  You should see the other guy.  And I started it so it isn't his fault.  No- wait…well he did sorta start it."

            "How did he _sorta start it?"  Rosa glared at her, daring her to lie._

            "You were in court today.  You heard the last thing Medda said."

            "Yes, I did."

            "Well, Racetrack started a nice little joke among the other guys.  I wasn't supposed to hear it but Snoddy can't keep his mouth shut.  I just tackled him and beat on him a little.  Don't worry though; he'll be fine."

            "What'd you do to him?"  Rubin asked.

            "Bloody nose," she said as if it were no big deal, "and maybe a few scratches.  Nothing life threatening, I promise.  And he didn't land one punch on me so quit worrying."

            "Speaking of the newsies…" Daniel entered the room, "where are they?"

            "Staying at the lodging house tonight.  See you at dinner."  She trotted past Rubin up the stairs and down the hall.

            At dinner she wore a clean set of clothes and sat around the bar with the rest of them.  Even Daniel had moved there from the dining room table after his experience with Spot. 

            "Rosa, is it ok if I go selling with the fellas tomorrow morning?"

            "That's fine.  I get up at six, so I'll make your breakfast."

            "Umm, Rosa.  I'm gonna be up and outta here by like five."

            "Why so early?" Daniel questioned.

            "Well I have to go all the way across Manhattan and wake some of the guys at the lodging house up.  Then we'll barely get there in time to get our papes."  Then more to herself, "I wonder if Spot'll still be sleeping."  She shrugged as she picked up her plate, "So can I go?"

            "Yes, just be back before curfew tomorrow night."

            She washed her plates in the kitchen and slipped upstairs.  Rubin was the one who checked on her a few hours later.

            "Are you going to bed early?" he asked.

            She nodded, "I just wanna finish a few more chapters in this book first."  She continued to read the book in front of her until upstairs was almost silent.  She slipped her pocket watch into her pocket after checking the time, it was only nine, and pulled on her boots.  She climbed out the window and expertly made her way to the ground.  She ran until she was out of the rich section of town and slowed her pace.  She loved Manhattan at night.  Barely everyone was outside and it was reasonably quiet.    

As she passed an alley a few bums leered at her suggestively.  One of them was brave enough to comment on how nice she looked.  Her clothes were tighter than the ones she wore when she was trying to look like a boy and she wasn't wearing a buttoned shirt over her tank top.  She rolled her eyes and told him to get lost, plus a few other choice adjectives to tell him what she thought of him.  She knew he was following her but did not increase her speed.  More footfall, jokes, and suppressed laughter indicated that his friends were coming as well.

After a moment they quieted and many began laughing again when she stopped.  The man who'd commented on her clothes stepped forward and spoke, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Why don't you and I-"

Not even letting him finish his question Hotshot spun around and aimed a fist at his face.  He was handsome, she would admit that, but she wasn't going to let him talk to her the way he was.  Her fist struck his face with enough force to send him flying over backward.  His friends all jumped back and he cursed as he hit the ground.  When he looked up at her the skin around his eye was already swelling; he'd have a black eye the next morning.  "I don't want to have anything to do wit' you," She told him, "so get outta here and leave me alone."

She turned and heard a few remarks yelled after her as she continued on her way to the lodging house.  She'd seen Oscar and Maurice in the group and planned to give them a lecture the next day.

She climbed in through the window and found everyone settled around the room.  She walked over to the largest of the card games.  Racetrack sat across from Spot with a smug look on his face.  Unnoticed by Race she sat down behind Spot.

"Race's bluffin'," she told him, "He's got nothing."

"How d'you know?" he asked not turning around.

"'Cause if he gives you that smug look it'll make you think he has a good hand and quit.  He uses it whenever he has nothing."

Spot added more money to the winnings and he and Race showed their cards.  Spot collected his winnings copying Racetracks smug face.  He respectfully declined Race's offer for another game.  He stood to leave.  It was then that Race saw Hotshot and began to protest as the two ideas connected in his brain.  Spot turned around.

"You say something?"  He was facing away from her but Hotshot knew the exact look on his face.  It was the face he made that did not reveal anything.  If you looked into his eyes all you saw was a threat to get soaked.  Hotshot had seen it once, when she was fifteen, and it was the only time he'd ever hit her.  

"No," Racetrack mumbled, deciding he didn't want to get beat on twice in one day.  

"Didn't think so," Spot turned and walked off.

Racetrack threw a look in Hotshot's direction.  She stared straight into his accusing glare and smiled.  "Don't look at me like that.  You know youse gonna win it all back by the end a the night."

When she found Jack he was sitting with Spot, Blackjack and Rebel in one corner of the room.  "As promised I am here," she sat down on the edge of the bunk.

"The other guys'll be back in a few," Jack said.

"Which ones?" she asked looking around the room.

"Bumlets and Specs are comin' back from the hospital," he explained, "So what'd ya tell Rosa?"

"Wait a minute.  Who's takin' Specs' place?"

"Mush."

"I told Rosa I was comin' at five tomorrow.  I didn't leave 'til after ev'ryone went ta bed."

"I thought you might have gotten in a fight wit' that Daniel kid."

"Why would I get in a fight wit' him?" she looked Rebel in the eye addressing his comment.

"Well," he said, "Youse gots blood on your hand so you musta been in a fight."

All of the guys' eyes snapped to her hands and back to her face.  Her brother raised an eyebrow in question.

Rebel continued, "If it wasn't Daniel then who was it?"

"There was a few a those rich hoity-toity bums the Delancy's hang out wit' a few streets from 'ere.  One a 'em was thinkin' he was gonna get sumthin' tonight so I made 'im get lost."

"Hotshot," Blackjack groaned rubbing a hand over his face.

"Don't start wit' that," she interrupted, "I only hit 'im once an' all I gave 'im was a black eye."  

Each of the boys stared at her face waiting for her to flinch. 

"I swear." She said

Spot met her gaze.  He was one of the few people who she could never lie to.  No matter what he could always tell when she was lying.  Even her brother couldn't do that.  She'd made up excuses plenty of times to get away from him, but never with Spot.

"She's tellin' the truth." He nodded.

"Well, it's nice to know I'se believed." She acted offended and smiled as the door to the room entered, "If the four a you are done being asses than I'se gonna go where I'se appreciated."  She staked off across the room.  Two of the boys stared after her astonished that she felt that way, while the other two began laughing at her acting.

Bumlets nearly ran into Hotshot as she appeared out of nowhere in front of him.  "Jeeez girl, what'd ya do that for?" he asked when he'd recovered from his shock.

"I didn't do anything." She claimed, "So how's Kid?"

"Same as always," Bumlets answered, "Hey Specs, you see who's here."

Specs looked over at her and his eyes went wide, "What're you doin' here.  Hotshot it's way past curfew.  If they find out youse gone-"

"Specs," she cut him off, "Rosa thinks I'se comin' here at five tomorrow and ev'ryone was sleepin' 'fore I left.  Don't worry so much."  She kissed his cheek and he shook his head, knowing it was no use to argue.

The three of them joined a card game with Dutchy and Skittery.  Half an hour later Spot was behind Hotshot, whispering in her ear, "Roof. Ten minutes."  She nodded and he was gone.  She excused herself after another win claiming, "Youse guys need some money to buy papes tomorrow."

The roof was dark when she reached it and Spot was nowhere to be seen.  She sat down to wait for him.  After a few minutes he stepped from the shadows.  "So what's up?" she asked as he approached her.  Without saying a word in response he kissed her.

Hotshot's reaction didn't even take a second, "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled pulling back away from him.

"You broke up with Specs.  Don't that mean we's back together?"

"Spot. No. I mean.  Spot we aren't getting back together."

"Why not?"  He was confused at being turned down.

"Spot, you and me, we's past being boyfriend and girlfriend.  You know that.  We was goin' downhill even 'fore you sent me to Manhattan."

"I don't believe you." He said angrily 

"Spot, I love you.  You know that.  But I love you like I love Andres and my family.  And Spot I think I'se in love with Specs."

"But we gotta get back together."

"No Spot.  If Specs wants to when this is over we's getting' back together.  I really love him Spot."

"No," he used his last bit of power over her, "If you don't get back together wit' me I ain't gonna help wit' you father's case and I'll kick you outta Brooklyn."

She stood there stunned for a moment and then yelled, "Don't you dare pull rank on me Spot Conlon."  She was up in his face meeting his eyes and fuming.

"And what if I do?"  He was just as angry but showed it only in the loudness of his voice.  

Usually if any newsie, including Hotshot, was going to do anything Spot could tell by looking in their eyes.  If they were going to turn and leave of throw a punch Spot could tell by something in their eyes and stop it.  He didn't see anything in Hotshot's eye.  She punched him once and sent him reeling over backward.  When he got up and came back at her she hit him again, harder.  This time he stared up at her with an astonished look.

"Don't you ever pull rank on me Spot Conlon," she said calmly as possible, "'Cause I have no problem hitting you."  She stalked downstairs and left him sitting on the roof.

She walked right past every group in the bunkroom and sunk down onto her bed.  Members of each group called out to her once or twice and then left her alone knowing she was angry at someone.  When Jack and Specs came over she yelled for them to leave her alone.  Her response to her brother was even nastier.  Eventually all of the newsies began to quiet down and go to bed.  This was when Racetrack chose to approach her.

"Who was it? He asked.

"Spot." She said the name with no emotion and without looking at him, "Now please Race leave me alone.  All I want is to go to sleep and forget this ever happened." 

Race left and found Rebel, "You might wanna find your brudah."

After Race had turned and left that was exactly what he did.

*          *          *

            After she'd hit him the second time Spot stared after her as she left.  He licked the inside of his cheek where blood was pooling and spat onto the hard, concrete surface.  The area around his left eye was swelling rapidly and he was sure he'd be asked who gave him the shiner when he got back downstairs.  Not only would he have to tell them he got soaked, but that he'd gotten soaked by a girl.

This brought him to another conclusion; Brooke had hit him.  In her entire life she'd only hit him a few times before that and he'd known it was coming.  The fact that her eyes hadn't revealed anything to him was what scared him most.

He moved to sit against the edge of the roof and sat in the dark thinking.  He'd been there at least half an hour when the sound of someone approaching made him look up.  Rebel wandered out onto the roof.  He looked around and stared at the place where Spot was hiding in the shadows.

"Gabe," he said.

Spot came out of the shadows a little but kept his head turned so that his brother would only see the right side of his face.  Rebel ignored this and took Spot's chin in his hand.  He turned Spot's face and whistled, "Boy, she really worked you over."

"What's it ta you?" Spot snapped slapping his brother's hand away.

"So how come she hit you?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

Spot froze and thought back to what had been said.  He immediately regretted everything he'd said.  "Damn," he mumbled, "Reb, I really screwed up."

"Yeah, I would hafta agree wit' you there," the older boy nodded.  He handed a small cloth to Spot, "Youse gots blood runnin' down your face.

Spot rubbed the cloth over his lips and chin, "Dennis, she ain't never gonna forgive me-"

"I told youse a million times; call me Rebel, not Dennis," his brother interrupted, "Now exactly what happened?"

Spot repeated the events that had taken place on the roof and his brother looked on with both horror and understanding.  "She ain't never gonna forgive me Reb.  I mean I don't blame 'er but…"

"You still care about her."  His brother finished for him.

"Yeah," Spot agreed, "What do ya think would happen if Specs left or sumthin' happened to 'im."

Rebel sighed, his brother jumped to violence way too fast.  "Spot, you can't soak Specs.  It ain't his fault that Hotshot likes him or that he likes her.  These things just happen."

Spot opened his mouth to say something but Rebel wasn't done yet.

"Spot, how do you love Brooke?"

"Whatta ya mean?"

"I mean do you love her like you love a sister or a good fiend or do you love her like you loved that girl you dated the year 'fore I left?  Take a minute and really think before ya answer."

Spot paused and stared off into space for a moment.  "A friend," he said amazed at his revelation. 

"Then you should be makin' sure Specs and her are both safe and tryin' to keep 'em togetha."  Rebel used the wisdom he'd gathered over the years on his little brother.  "You ready to go downstairs?"

"Everyone asleep?"

"They'll see it tomorrow, Brooklyn."

"Well right now I wanna get some sleep and let it wait 'til tomorrow."

"Yeah, they's all asleep."  The two of them walked downstairs and he pushed Spot into an empty bunk.  The younger boy was drained of all energy and asleep almost instantly.  Rebel made his way to his bunk and quietly whispered to Jack about what had happened.  Jack let out a low whistle, thankful everyone else was asleep and that no one had heard it.  Unfortunately for him one of the other boys was laying in his bunk wide-awake.  When he was sure Jack and Rebel were asleep he crept out of bed.  He pulled on his glasses and snuck up to the roof for an hour, just thinking about what he'd heard.  There was one person that he was unsure about whether he should tell or not.  He knew that person would want to know but didn't want to worry him or her (there you go Katelyn, not 'them').  When he made his decision he went back downstairs and crawled into bed.  He'd decide by tomorrow.  (Ooohhhh, was it Specs or Dutchy?  Wiser?  Virgo?  Who needs to know?  Specs or Hotshot?  Dun, Dun, Dun!)

*          *          *

The next morning Hotshot was up at Brooklyn time; maybe even earlier.  She was the first one awake, anyway and it was still before five.  She quickly washed up and changed into her clothes.  She was going to give Spot one chance, and only one chance, to set things right.  He knew how to do it, but she wondered if his pride would get in the way.

When the other newsies began to wake up most of them threw glances at Hotshot; probably wondering if her bad mood had ended with sleep or carried into the next day.  Race was the only one who met her eyes and she smiled sweetly at him in return.  He sighed and a few of the boys around him relaxed.

The real challenge began when Spot came out of the washroom.  Everyone froze or stared and he looked at them all with an ice hard glare.  Pie Eater was the first to speak.

"Jeeez Spot, what happened ta you?"

"What's it look like.  I got soaked."

By this time the bunkroom was deathly silent

"By who?" Itey's curiosity got the better of him.

"First of all it's whom," Spot corrected.  He was stalling for time and Hotshot was getting worried about his answer.  "And," he went on, "It was Hotshot."  

All heads turned in her direction and she smiled at him.  

"I'se sorry," he mouthed and no one could see.

She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.  "Someone's gotta keep you in line," she said.   Then she whispered, "We'll talk later.  With that she strolled out of the bunkroom and the newsies who were ready followed her ,"

(A/N:  I just love keeping people in suspense.  You'll have to review and find out.  If you don't I might not add anymore chapters.  I know this one is short but the last few were really long and the next one will be longer too.

Taking a vote.  Who should she get together with at the end of the story.  Spot, Specs, or someone else?  Vote in your review.  It won't effect the ending at all I just want to see what people think.  Anyway I promise new chapters soon.

                                                            ~Megan)


	20. Threats

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 20

By Megan

Those who reviewed deserve some shout-outs.

Pina: thank you. 

**Tiger:**  Of course, us girls need ta be tough.

**Discord:** I try to update.  Get on my back about it if I stop.

**Lange: **Sorry about bashin' Spot but it fits with the story line.

**Spot: **You makin' fun a me again?

**Megan: **Yeah, you got a problem with that?

**Spot: **Yes I do.

**Megan: **Then go visit Lange**.**

(Spot storms across computer wires and smiles.  "Hi Lange.")

**MoonStar:** Thank you for that review.  Nice to know some people think I'm good (sisters make fun).  Your story is great too.

**SaL: **Where's chapter four.  You need to call me.  I'se stuck in a house with Shelli, Krissy and **Josh.  Ugh!**

**Baby309blue: **muchos gracias.

**Moth Stafu:** Thanks for the review.

**Liz: **You're right, there do need to be more stories about Specs.  Cough, cough **hint, hint everyone**.

And now on with the show… 

            After buying papers Hotshot walked through the streets with Specs, Dutchy, Pickpocket, and Cover.  They all spent the first ten minutes selling papes before Cover ventured a question.

            "So why'd ya soak Spot?" he asked.

            She turned to the group of curious newsies biting her thumbnail.  "He said sumthin' I didn't like," she said.

            "And you just soaked him!  Hots, if he fought back he coulda killed you!"

            She looked at Pickpocket as he used his pet nick for her, "Ya know how he always knows what's comin' when he fights?  I don' think he did this time.  I surprised him and he was sorta in shock after the second punch."

            "What'd he say?" Dutchy asked glancing past Specs at her.

            "He was trying to get me ta do sumthin' that I used ta do 'fore I came here.  When I said 'no' he threatened me wit' somethin' he shouldn't a said."

            "Whatta ya mean?" Cover was back again with another question.

            "I mean, he pulled rank on me," she said calmly.

            The two Brooklyn newsies both let out a low whistle while Dutchy looked at her confused, "So?"

            "Spot is the only Brooklyn leader who refuses to pull rank.  He'll tell you sumthin' as a good friend but neva as youse boss."  Pickpocket explained, "What'd he threaten ya wit'."

            "Ta kick me outta Brooklyn."

            "What was you fightin' 'bout to make 'im do that?" Pickpocket asked.

"Me," the voice was quiet, but loud enough for the newsies to hear.  "Spot wants her ta go out wit' him again and get riddah me."

"How much'd you hear?" she asked.

"Jus' that Spot thought I was a threat and that you hit 'im.  Why would any girl want me ova Spot Conlon an' when did you date 'im?" Specs looked at her curiously.

"When I lived in Brooklyn." She said selling her last pape.  Throughout the whole conversation they'd been selling them and most of them were almost done.  Pickpocket had the most left so he gave her some of his.  

"Keep the money ya make," he said out of habit.  He had given up picking pockets, most of the time anyway, and only picked locks when needed.  He was going by either Lockpick or Pickpocket now.  Didn't really matter to him.

She nodded and finished selling.  The money she made from his papes held in her fist she slipped into his pocket.  He'd taught her how to do everything at Spot's order but she was the first to admit she wasn't near as good.  Today he was busy and didn't notice the change entering his pocket.  He'd find it later but she wouldn't take it back.  After everyone had sold their last paper the group headed for Tibby's.

Specs lingered back seeing Spot in the window.  Hotshot saw Spot and glanced at Specs.  She stopped and walked back to him, again biting her nail.  "I would pick you ova Spot." She said.

"What?"

"When you said no goil would want you ova Spot you was wrong.  I told him last night that I'd get back tagether wit' you afta the trial was ova if ya still wanted ta go out," she looked toward the diner as she spoke.  "He wouldn't do anythin' ta you.  He knows I can soak 'im and I think he's ova it."

"Jus' 'cause ya hit him ya think he's ova it?" Specs raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"No it was sumthin' he said."  She nodded toward Tibby's, "C'mon, I'll buy ya lunch."

Spot barely glanced up at them as they entered.  He was engrossed in a hushed conversation with Jack, Rebel, and a few of the other higher powered newsies.  They joined another group stuffed into one of the booths.

"Hotshot, afta the trial is ova you gona steal our man Specs to sell wit' ev'ryday?" Skittery asked referring to himself, Dutchy, Bumlets, and Kid Blink when he was well.  Pie Eater and Snoddy were also part of the group sometimes.  "'Cause ya know he's the one that explains everythin' to us."

"Yeah," Racetrack added coming to join them, "Like why these five are so stupid."

"And why Race is so short," Pie Eater shot back.  Race reached foreward and smacked the taller newsie with his cabby hat.

Specs also earned a swat by saying, "Even I can't explain that."

"The only reason I'se so short is 'cause all you tall bum stole all the food," he desperately tried for an insulting comeback.

"Nah Race, smokin' an' caffeine stunt ya growth."  She took his cigar from between hit teeth and threw it into the ashtray.  A cheer erupted not only from the boys at her table but also the surrounding ones.  She stopped one of the boys' laughter when she continued, "Yeah Race, but don't feel bad.  The caffeine part is the reason Spot is so puny too."

"Ooohhh…" 

Every newsie in the restaurant made the call that was usually made when the Delancy's were chasing Jack.  

Spot just grinned at her, "Youse jus' lucky I don't hit goils, Hotshot."

"Anytime, anyplace Spottie.  There ain't no rule sayin' girls can't hit guys."

"Brooklyn lodging house, the loft, eight pm, tonight." He said with a strange, forced smile on his face.

Was he serious?  Spot had never challenged another newsie from his group to fight him before.  Hopefully he just wanted to discuss what had happened.  "I'll be there," she agreed.

Everything went back to normal except for a few more comments about their fight the previous night.

"So what's up this afternoon?" she asked Specs.

"Visit Kid Blink."  That was the end of the discussion.  They walked to the hospital in silence.  

A doctor recognized Hotshot and quickly pulled her aside.  She immediately thought the worst and, despite her training in Brooklyn, paled.  "No, Miss don't worry, I have good news."

"How good?"

"I believe Trey will be waking up within the hour."

She froze.  This was too good to be true.  She had to be dreaming or something.  It couldn't possibly be that easy.

"Now he won't be out of the woods yet, but I believe he is going to recover."

She finally found his voice, "He's gonna be ok?"

"In time, I believe so," The doctor was smiling at her.

"Will he umm… Will he be able to talk or anything."

"Yes, he'll be able to talk.  His throat might be a little sore but that's about it.  The only thing is he might be tired and a little confused."

"That's Blink for ya." She laughed, "Seriously though, thank you so much."  It was the first time she actually looked at the doctor.  He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Rebel.  

"Well, why don't you get going so you can be there when he wakes up."  He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and she ran across the hall to his room.

Once she saw the three boys' sad faces she knew they hadn't been told.  She jumped on Specs, hugging him furiously.  "They said he's gonna wake up in less than an hour!" she said loud enough for them both to hear.  

Specs smiled and mumbled some kind of prayer under his breath while Mush and Bumlets cheered.  Mush snickered at Specs and Hotshot.

"Another perfect opportunity for the two a youse ta be all ova eachotha," he said suggestively. 

"I swear I'll soak ya, Mush." She threatened

Obviously Bumlets had filled his friend in on her and Spot's fight because Mush immediately shut his mouth.

After a few minutes of celebrating they settled around the room.  Hotshot was falling asleep over a poker game with Mush when she heard a familiar voice whispering, "Specs, Specs whatta ya doin' here?  What happened?"

Instantly the three boys were surrounding the bed.  Hotshot made her way over more slowly because her legs hurt from sitting in the same position for over an hour.  She also thought it was right to let them see Kid Blink first since they'd known him longer.  He was talking to his three friends about what had happened and they told him truthfully.  After a minute of being depressed by his near-death experience they talked about everyone at the lodging house.  The doctor had already told them that everyone could come the next day.

One by one each of the boys talked to Kid Blink and moved away to give someone else a turn.  

First Mush, then Bumlets, then Specs.  After he was finished he left the chair open for Hotshot.  She took the seat and found Kid Blink smiling at her, "Heya Hotshot."

"Hey Kid.  How ya feelin'?"

"Like crap, but the othas say I'se gonna feel better in a few days."

"I'll hafta bring Blackjack 'round in a day or two."

"I t'ought that was youse brudah's name."

"It is.  Spot found him locked in the attic a me place in Brooklyn."

"Ah, Spot.  I hear you an' him had a fight 'bout your love life an' you soaked him if Bumlets told me correctly."

"Yes, I soaked him.  He wanted to be part of my private life again and I didn't want him there.  He pulled rank on me and I just lost it."  She glanced at Specs in an unnoticeable way.

"Would you just tell him you love him and get it over with." Kid Blink hissed it quietly.

"Excuse me?" she turned back to him, "Who says I love him?"

"No one hasta.  You beat up Spot who youse known forever for a guy you known three of four months.  For all you know what happened to me could happen ta him tomorrow.  He loves you too, trust me.  Just tell him you love 'im." He yawned, "Am I supposed to be tired?"

"Yeah, the doc said you would be.  Get some rest.  I'll stop by tomorrow an' I'll bring the guys."

"Send Mush over.  I need a game of cards first."

"Sure," she forfeited her seat to Mush and walked over to Specs.   She looked over to find Mush dealing cards to himself, Bumlets, and Kid.  The latter of which didn't seem to notice his eye patch was missing.  Specs made room for her on the couch and she collapsed next to him.

"No offence but I think I'm gonna be glad to get back to my house tonight," she told him.

"Well sanity has basically left the lodging house since you got here.  I dunno how Brooklyn ever let you stay there and not have the whole place in complete hysteria."  He turned to her grinning.

"Sanity left the lodging house then.  From Spots stories I heard it was worse 'fore I got there."

"Then you hafta think about the increase in fights wit' scabs, deflation of Race's ego, other newsies, an' all the court stuff.  No I can't say it was all bad; deflating Race's oversized ego was great."

"So overall…" she left it hanging.

"Overall I think the lodging house has been better since you came." Sarcasm dripped from his voice but she knew he was really serious.

"Thought so," she agreed.  After that she ignored what Kid Blink had told her.  She kept it in the back of her mind and was more aware of I now than ever.  She'd tell him, eventually.

Specs, Race, and Dave were meeting her in Brooklyn at nine pm and they were going to walk home together.  Well, Specs was going to the hospital but David and Race were going back to the house.

She walked slowly through the Brooklyn streets on her way to the pier.  It didn't matter how fast she want; she was still going to be there early.  The d pier was covered with newsies, all of whom she knew.  They nodded to her and a few of them asked her how life in Manhattan was.  

"Hey Scorpion, Stretch." She said reaching the door to the bunks, "Spot here yet?"

"Inside," Scorpion nodded.

"Talk to you later then," she opened the door and closed it behind her.  A lot of the guys seemed to be in a bad mood or uptight about something.  Maybe Spot was in a bad mood.  When she reached the bottom of the ladder she looked up to see if the trapdoor was closed; it was.  She was about to ask Stretch why when Spot stepped out of the shadows.  She jumped, "Jesus, Conlon!"

"I'm sorry," he stepped forward and hugged her. 

 She had already decided that if he tried to kiss her she would leave without thinking but this surprised her.  "What made you change your mind?"

"Something Reb told me just made me think and realize I like you like you like me, not how you like Specs."

"Didn't I tell you the _exact same thing on the roof last night?"  She grinned at him, knowing he'd have to admit he'd been wrong for once._

Spot groaned at the smug look on her face and sat on a crate, "Alright, alright, you was right and I was wrong.  Are ya happy now?"  When she nodded he continued, "You ready to go up?"

She began to climb the ladder with him following her closely.  She pushed open the door and climbed into the loft.  When she stood and looked around and noticed the rooms other inhabitants.  Jack, David, Rebel, and Lockpick were all seated on one side of the room while Oscar and Maurice Delancy, as well as Mitchell sat on the other half.  She gasped and turned around, "Spot, what's going on?"

He said nothing but lead her to an empty crate and told her with his eyes to sit down.  In a hushed whisper he told her, "This is an arranged meeting.  None of 'em are stupid enough o try anything with the rest of the Brooklyn newsies downstairs."  She relaxed under his arm and he removed his hand from her shoulder.  Spot took his seat directly between the two groups.

"You boys are here 'cause youse supposed to testify against Hotshot in court.  Now, Oscar and Maurice they might put you back up there, and Mitchell, youse up the end a next week.  Youse supposed to tell the truth, which this far youse done.  But I'se been hearin' t'ings from little birdies.  They sayin' that Edwards has been makin; some sorta deals wit' youse; sayin' he'll pay youse if you lie.  If you do decide to take the money and lie I swear that if any a youse ever set foot in Brooklyn again youse gonna wish you'd neva been born, even you Mitchell.  And the idiotic Delancy's, even if ya don't come to Brooklyn me and Jackie-boy here are gonna send all our best fightas afta youse."     

The other newsies that were on Hotshot's side said a bit after Spot was finished.  After each of them had said their threats Spot stood again.  "Youse bums got half an hour ta get outta Brooklyn."  

The Delancy's quickly filed out of the room silently glaring at Hotshot as she passed them. 

Mitchell moved at a slower place.  He knew the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand.  He could be across the bridge in ten minutes if he had too.  He wasn't going to take that much time tonight though, because he knew Hotshot and Spot maybe even some of the others could do it in five.  

He grinned at her, knowing no matter what he said she couldn't do anything about it.  Spot was sending her warning glares and it was well known because of Daniel that she no longer carried her knife.  His grin widened and he smirked suggestively at her, the way he and some of his friends did when they picked up girls in the pitiable part of town.  He took the risk of her wrath and Spot's; he ran his thumb across her jaw and whispered, "Don' worry, I won't tell 'em it's youse problem youse a slut.  Like mudah, like daughter and then youse gotta consider youse friends."

She tried to launch herself at him but David had been listening and held her back.  Rebel, Lockpick, Jack and Spot all had slingshots in their hands within seconds.  Spot released his and the marble connected with the side of Mitchell's face.  "Get out of here now.  Youse only got ten minutes."  

Hotshot spat in his face but he merely wiped it off.  Mitchell nodded and left, daring to flash another grin at Hotshot before he disappeared through the trapdoor.  She snarled with anger and pulled, trying to release herself from David's firm grip.  He didn't let go and Spot stepped in front of her.  She calmed down after a minute and David let go of her arms.  All of the others, except David were downstairs by now.  Spot gave David his instructions.

"Go wait for Race and Specs downstairs, call up when they's both here."  David followed his instructions without question and left the two of them alone.  It was then that Spot turned to Hotshot.  "He always knows just how to get to you, ever since you first came wit' youse brudah."

"I swear Spot, if I had my knife I think I woulda killed him."  She was cracking her knuckles wishing that she could go after him.  Mitchell was the person who had enjoyed taunting her when they both lived in Brooklyn.  He hated the fact that there was a girl anywhere in New York who could sell more than him, and threaten his job as second in command.  Every look and thing he said to Hotshot had a threat hidden in it.  She hadn't spoken to him in a long time so she wasn't sure what this one meant.  All she knew was that she didn't like it.  "He don't have no job anyway, just that gang a his.  Why ain't someone killed him yet?"

"No one has the guts to," Spot said, "not even me.  He's too good a fighter.  You are the only person I ever known to say they want him dead out loud.  Don't let him get to you."

At that moment Race came up the ladder and called, "Hey Spot, youse gonna let her go any time soon so we can get 'er back 'fore curfew?"  He walked over and shook hands with Spot.  Spot whispered something in the gambler's ear that was not heard by Hotshot.  

She started toward the trapdoor with Race and Spot called after her, "If he gives you a good enough reason take it."  

She was shocked that Spot would suggest she kill Mitchell if she had the chance.  The only thing that stopped her form looking back at Spot was Racetrack yelling for her to get down the ladder.

The walk was silent until they crossed the bridge.  None of the boys would speak so Hotshot took it upon herself to start a conversation.  "So is Blink doin' any better?"

"Yeah," Specs answered, "He wants to se everyone tomorrow, but he wants ta talk to you alone first.  We filled him in on everything that happened while he was…"  The tall brunette trailed off and then started a new sentence; "The doc said he might be able to be in court the last few days."  At this point the group stopped in front of the hospital.  "I'll see youse tomorrow," Specs mumbled, "Bumlets is takin' me place afta tonight so I'll be back at youse place Hotshot."  

She nodded as the others called see you tomorrow.  The two boys started walking, leaving her with him.  "Thanks for staying wit' him Specs." She said.

"Step on it Lynn," Race called back, "We'se only gots ten minutes!"

She kissed Specs quickly on the cheek and took off after the two who were already together.  She passed them and they sped up to catch up with her.  The three were soon out of sight to Specs who was still staring after them.  He sighed and walked into the hospital, where he took his usual place next to Kid Blink's bed.   The only difference was tonight Kid asked what had happened.  He just shook his head and tried to explain.

Hotshot and her friends entered the house with two minutes to spare.  She hit Race in the arm for calling her Lynn and watched Rosa come out of the kitchen.

"Racetrack, what on earth happened to you?" Rosa yelled seeing the bruise along his jaw.  

Racetrack and David exchanged glances and in the same instant pointed to Hotshot.

"What happened to never tellin' on another newsie?" Hotshot asked.  She started upstairs with the other two in close pursuit.  They played poker until Rosa came in and yelled for them to go to bed.  The boys retreated to their rooms and Hotshot curled up on her bed, wishing Specs were there to talk to.

A/N:  Another chapter done.  I was sorta disappointed with how few reviews I got for the last two so press that button and write me a review.  I had a brainstorm today that might change the rest of the story a little.  Don't worry it'll still have the same ending.  But the new part has something to do with and event mentioned in this chapter cough, cough **hint, hint FIGHT** cough, cough.  Anyway, hope you liked the latest chapter.  Tell me whatcha think a the story so far.    Byes!                              ~Megan~~~


	21. Planning AheadRacetrack You Idiot!

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 21

By Megan

            She found herself sitting in Denton's apartment far too early the next morning.  She was using her arms as a pillow while he made coffee for himself as well as Dave and Race.  She knew Dave was needed but wasn't sure why Race had insisted on coming.  She sat up as Denton placed a mug of coffee in front of her.  She took a small, hesitant sip and placed it back on the table.

            "Judge Monahan is beginning your father's trial tomorrow morning," Denton spoke, leafing through the papers in front of him.  "That means you'll have about a week off from your trial."

            She sighed at the thought and stretched, leaning back in her chair.

            "You have witnesses, right?" Denton asked.

            "A course," she smiled.

            "Credible witnesses?" he raised an eyebrow.

            "Spot an' Reb _are credible witnesses Denton.  They were really there."_

            Denton scribbled their names onto a document and sent Race out the door to go look for the pair.  He looked up to see Hotshot's scrutinizing glare upon his face.  "What is it?" he asked, knowing something was on the young girls mind.

            "Do I hafta be there?"

            "Only the day they're going to question you," Denton said, "And I'll only ask you the questions they asked the first time and anything else that will help your case.  Spot and Rebel don't need you to be there.  Spot's been in that courtroom enough to know how to behave and Rebel, well, he's old enough to know better."

            "You want Spot to behave?" Dave smiled, "Maybe Hotshot should be there to keep 'im in line."

            "Ya wanna rethink that last line, Mouth?" a voice asked from the doorway.  The door had been opened noiselessly and there stood the Brooklyn leader.

            Hotshot couldn't help laughing at the look on David's face.  He looked scared out of his mind.  "Oh, be nice Spot," she said.  He still had a slightly swelled black eye but it would look normal again soon.  She took another sip of her coffee and offered Rebel and Spot a cup.

            The morning was spent going over information for both cases.  Hotshot was glued to the information once she woke up and David was just as enthusiastic.  Spot and Rebel wanted to know exactly what they had to do so their attention was on only the cases.  Race's attention, as always, tended to wander.  He walked around the room and looked at Denton's photography equipment and writing supplies.  Eventually he climbed out the window to join some of his friends who were selling nearby.

            "Umm… Denton?" Spot asked as they were wrapping up.  "If her dad gets outta jail don't that mean she doesn't hafta finish her trial 'cause he can take legal custody of her."

            Denton sighed, "I wish it were that simple Spot.  It doesn't matter that he's released.  The judge may see him as an unfit parent, and even if the judge likes him there's a state law."

            "Explain…" Rebel prompted.

            "The law states that any parent that spends over ten years in the state refuge may not take custody of his/her children once they are released. Brooke,"

            She winced at hearing her name and whined, "Denton."

            "Sorry, Hotshot can live with him if she receives emancipation because she officially has custody of herself and is allowed to make her own decision."

            "What about his business?" David asked.

            "He will regain ownership of that if he is freed because that will mean Jonathan Pulitzer and Mr. Conlon will be in jail."  Spot and Rebel seemed extremely comforted by this comment.

            The four left the apartment a few minutes later and made their way to the hospital.  The three boys made their way through Kid Blink's room first.  He actually started a bit of an argument with Rebel and Spot took it upon himself to join the fight.  Hotshot kicked them out when she began to get a headache. 

            Today Blink was wearing his patch as she sat down.  He lay back on his mattress and stared at the ceiling.  Silence passed between them for a few long seconds before Hotshot spoke, "Blink what's wrong?" 

            "You saw me yesterday," he sounded dismal.

            "Blink," she smiled, "I see you every day."

            "No." He ran a hand through his hair.  It was obvious that whatever he was saying had a different meaning than what Hotshot thought, but she wasn't getting it.  "I mean you saw me without me patch," he explained, "Youse must think-"

            "Blink, there's nuthin' wrong wit' that."

            "You don't think I'se a freak then?" he looked at her worriedly.

            "Kid, Specs told me what happened," she said, "Of course I don't think youse a freak.  I'se seen worse scars than that an' youse me friend.  I wouldn't make fun a you for it."  She remembered how Specs had told her some newsies made fun of Kid Blink when he'd first come to the lodging house.

            They chatted for the remainder of the afternoon.  Kid Blink actually won a few games of poker and Hotshot _did not let him.  Bumlets and Specs entered the room around dusk and found Hotshot sitting on Kid Blink's bed with a growing pile of coins and items on the sheet between them.  _

            "Hey, ain't this Race's?" Bumlets asked, taking a pocket watch out of the pile and holding it up.

            "Yeah, and thanks to me he'll get it back," Hotshot held up her cards and Blink groaned, collapsing back against his pillows.

            "I swear you cheat." He accused.

            "Well youse a pickpocket so we'se even."  She grinned smugly at him and he laughed.

            Kid Blink paid a small price for his fun.  He began to cough up blood.  A nurse who was at the doorway yelled for them to leave and ran to find a doctor.  As the doctor entered the room they finally allowed themselves to be showed out.  In the waiting room Hotshot handed Bumlets her winnings from the afternoon, minus Race's pocket watch anyway, with strict instructions.  "Give this back to Blink."

            "He'll be fine," the doctor told them as he left the room, "He's out cold right now but I guarantee you he _is getting better."_

            "Thanks Doc," Specs said for them, "See you tomorrow Bumlets."  The dark-haired newsie simply waved to them as they walked out the door.  Then he retreated back to Kid Blink's bedside.  Specs and Hotshot were at the same time walking across town.  Unbeknown to all of them there were some newsies who were plotting something to leave their mark.   

*          *            *

            "Wick!" Mitchell yelled the name as he slammed the door behind him.  The building was smaller than the Brooklyn newsies' lodging house, but it also held fewer boys.  Mitchell was furious and finding the usually crowded lobby empty made him even madder.  "Wick!" he yelled again, "Wick, where are you!?"

            "What's up Mitchell?"  The seventeen-year-old stuck his head out of an office doorway. 

"I want the group down here, _now!" He began calling out the names to be sure only that group came down, "Scratch, Stoney, Crack, Bones, Greedy, Spitfire, Pipes, Trouble, Tiner, Masks, and Moody."_

"Sure, I'll get them," Wick took off up the stairs.  Most of the newsies that had originally left Rebel's because Spot became leader and Hotshot was allowed to join had left years before.  Mitchell was the only one who was still there, and the only one who hadn't gotten the fact that it wasn't worth it.  Most of the 'rebels' there now were only there because they were scared of what Mitchell would do to them if they left.  Scratch and Greedy were the only one's who actually agreed with Mitchell.  He called the names in the bunkroom and the boys reported down to the meeting room.

Mitchell was watching them with the mad gleam in his eyes that almost everyone dreaded.  In front of him there was an old newspaper with a picture on the front.  When they were all seated he spoke, "This is how we get revenge on that little bitch."

The picture was of the Manhattan newsboys, and Spot, during the strike.

"Uh, Mitch?" Crack raised a hand, "How exactly is an old newspaper gonna help us?"  He was silenced by a deadly glare from their leader.

"We're going to find three of these newsies and bring them to a certain spot.  Then we'se gonna invite Hotshot for a little 'chat'.  The actual event won't happen for a few weeks a course but we gotta start plannin' now."

"Which ones?" Scratch asked leaning over the paper.

"The one with specs," Mitchell said, "He's her best friend and they might be seein' eachotha.  The brunette, not the blonde, and then two others from the paper.  The one behind Jack on the left," He decided, "and the one between Jack and Racetrack." The boys nodded and began bouncing ideas off one another.  

Mitchell, Scratch, and Greedy were coming up with most of the ideas.  Wick was Mitchell's most trusted advisor and friend but he couldn't think at the moment.  He was too shocked.

"What happens if she doesn't show up alone?" Wick asked when most of the plan was set.

"Then her friends are all dead," Mitchell said, "an' don't none a youse lay a finger on her, she's mine."  

There was a rumor among the newsies that lived there, saying that Mitchell was mad.  The glint in the older boy's eyes and the intense way he spoke convinced Wick that those rumors were true.  He gulped, wishing he had never joined that gang.  He noticed many others mirroring his actions.  The only three to whom the action went unnoticed were the three who had convinced themselves that Hotshot needed to die.

*            *            *

Specs was still in Hotshot's room when she woke up the next morning.  It was before dawn so the room was still dark.  She silently rolled out of bed and got dressed.  As she was going to the window she heard his voice, thick with sleep, behind her, "Hotshot, where are you goin'?"

"Selling."  She was extremely happy that she was selling again.  She was also planning a bit of fun.

"Wait for me," ha said.

"Then hurry up.  I'll meet you outside."  Without another word she slid down the fire escape.

Specs threw on his clothes and joined her.  As they began the walk he asked a question that had been on his mind, "Why're we goin' so early?"  As if to emphasis early he yawned.

She smiled a smile that all Brooklyn and most Manhattan newsies had learned to fear.  Specs groaned and she just nodded.  "The morning after I officially joined Brooklyn Spot threw me in the harbor 'cause I didn't get up.  Race said he was out really late last night.  He went to Harlem for something, I think.  I'm wondering how much cold water I should pour in that bucket if he isn't up yet."

"He's gonna kill you," Specs mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

"No, he hasta get dressed and out first.  By that time I'll be selling my papers."  The rest of the run was interrupted only by the sounds of carriages and a few drunks leaving from a long night at a bar.  

As they climbed through the bunkroom window they found all of the newsies awake and getting ready for work.  Spot was laying asleep in his bunk.  Specs grabbed Hotshot's arm and caught her eye with a warning, "I had _nothing to do with this."_

"Of course not."  Her smile wasn't reassuring at all.  

Specs collapsed on his bunk, which was currently the property of Pickpocket.  The Brooklyn newsie laughed.

"Has she always been like that?" Specs asked.

"She's always been really daring but I think Manhattan has had a bad influence on 'er."  He laughed.

"What time did he get in last night?" Hotshot asked Rebel.  She wanted to be sure he wouldn't be awake enough to catch her.

"Four in the morning.  You're safe, trust me."  Everyone knew her plan and wanted to see the outcome.

Hotshot slowly approached the bunk.  Everyone was watching but they still kept doing what they had been to get ready.  "Spot," she whispered. 

 No response came from the Brooklyn leader, who lay on the bed looking innocent of any crime you could accuse him of.  

"Spot, wake up," she poked his side lightly, "C'mon Spottie."  

He rolled over a little to avoid the wake up call.  

"Alright Brooklyn, you asked for it."  She picked up the bucket of ice-cold water from the washroom and poured it over the sleeping form on the bed.

Instantly the bunkroom was full of motion.  As the water hit Spot he shot up out of bed and hit his head on the bunk above his.  The bucket flew across the floor in the direction of the door, which Kloppman was just now entering through.  Hotshot all but flew out the window and down the fire escape.  The only words she heard made her smile.

"When I find out who done this they's gonna wish they'd neva been born!"  Spot's voice rang through the block and flocks of birds flew from their nests.  Passersby glanced up at the newsboys lodging house at the loud sound emitted from the windows, and watched the girl running down the street, almost falling over with laughter.

Spot was the last newsie to the distribution station that morning.  He was still damp from the unexpected bath that Hotshot had given him that morning.  He was also very agitated because of the fact that no one would tell him who had, literally, soaked him.  Even without their help he still had a pretty good idea.  

"I'm gonna hurt you," he hissed at Hotshot.

She turned and let a fake, surprised look come over her face, "Spot, what on earth happened ta you?"

"You know what happened, an' you know 'cause you did it."  He barely noticed some of the other newsies surrounding them.

"Ya can't prove it though, can you?"  She smiled smugly at him and laughed.

Spot knew it was her but there was no way he could prove it.  He also knew that Rebel wouldn't let him soak her without proof.  He was stuck.  The Brooklyn leader stood for a moment just looking at her, and then he burst out laughing, realizing what she was getting revenge on him for.  Only when he laughed did most of the other newsies allow the laughter they'd been holding in all morning to escape.

Specs was somewhat hurt when Hotshot walked off with Pickpocket, Roman, and Swinger.  He was only upset, however, until Skittery, Dutchy, Snoddy, and Pie Eater surrounded him.  The group had soon claimed a portion of central park to sell in.

Four Brooklyn newsies walked through Bottle Alley selling papers to everyone they saw.  When there weren't many people Pickpocket and Hotshot talked while Roman and Swinger had a mock fight, and occasionally joined the conversation.

Hotshot and Pickpocket were in the middle of a discussion about old times in Brooklyn when the two clowns ended their fight and Swinger interrupted them.  

"So what're we gonna do when you come back to Brooklyn.  We's gonna need ta have a big party or sumthin'!" Swinger announced, bouncing alongside Pickpocket.  

Hotshot stopped in her tracks and the other three kept walking.  She hadn't even thought about going back to Brooklyn since the first time Specs had kissed her.  For some reason she thought that meant she should stay in Manhattan.  But now, with her father getting out of jail and the Brooklyn boys wanting her to come back she wasn't as sure.

"Hotshot?" Pickpocket asked over his shoulder.  She quickened her pace and caught up with them.

"You are comin' back ta Brooklyn when this whole thing ends ain'tcha?" Roman asked.

"Of course." She gave them the answer that they wanted, for now anyway.  She tucked the thought into the back of her mind as Swinger started another conversation.  

"So why aren't you at youse dad's trial taday?" he asked.  

"I'se only goin' Wednesday through Friday," she said, "The days me, Spot , an' Reb testify and the day of the judges decision.  I ain't needed the rest of the time and I'se real sick a that courtroom."

She split from her comrades a few hours later after they'd sold the morning papers.  She walked to the hospital by herself and literally walked into Specs, who was coming to the door from a different angle.

"Oof!" the air was sucked out of his lungs as he hit the hard surface of the hospital floor.  His friend had a similar reaction.  Specs pushed himself up and offered her his hand.  She took hold of it and pulled herself up.  "I see your still just naturally graceful." He commented.

"As always," she said sarcastically, doing a little bow.

He just shook his head and the two of them entered their companion's room.  They found Kid Blink, Bumlets, and Race taking part in a poker game.  Race was just adding his pocket watch to the ever-growing pile between them.

"Racetrack Higgins, I went through a lot of trouble to get that watch back for you," Hotshot hissed, "You better have a really good hand.  And if you think I'll win it back for you again youse got another thing comin'."

Racetrack dismissed her scolding with a wave of his hand.  He won the round and luckily didn't bet his watch in the next game, which he lost miserably to Bumlets.  Specs and Hotshot joined the game and a few hours later Specs won his first poker game of all times.  

When Kid Blink began to fall asleep it was a signal for them to leave.  Bumlets halted them outside the door.  He told them that Blink had had two coughing fits that day but they were much better than even those at the lodging house.  The news of the coughing fit was all that still worried them but the rest was good news.  The trio dropped by the lodging house to give the others the good news.  By the time they left again it was past dark and the streets were nearly empty.

Hotshot was the least startled out of them all when a dark form appeared in front of them.  All four of them froze and the form, obviously a newsie from another part of New York muttered incoherently.  "Watch your back!" he said loudly enough for them to hear.  He threw a large rock in their direction and they each dodged out of the way of the flying object.  When they looked back to where he'd been he was gone.  Race picked up the rock and read what was scratched into it 'Beware'.

"Mitchell," was all Hotshot could say, and they continued on their way.  

A/N: Dun, dun, dun…  More suspense.  Ain't it great!  If you want to find out who the two newsies from the paper are you'll have to go watch the movie.  I would love it if more people would leave reviews saying whom they think Hotshot should end up with, not just SaL and Lange, who both write awesome stories by the way.  

Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter and I'm hoping that means you're going to review.  For those of you who have a fear of reviewing, GET OVER IT!!!  Apologies in advance, it's late and I'm on sugar high.  I'll have more chapters up but they're gonna slow down 'cause I have band camp.  Ugh!  Color Guard rocks though.

                                                ~Megan~~~  


	22. A New Trial

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 22

By Megan

**Shout outs:  **Ok, I wanna give shout outs to all who have reviewed the last two or three chapters.  I don't know if it's my computer or the website but I'll check me reviews and new ones keep disappearing and reappearing. **Shrugs**   Anyway, thanks to all of you who have reviewed.  I was sort of testing out the newsies category but if I keep getting good feedback I'll type up some of my other newsies stories.  Hope I'll have your reviews for those too.

On with the show…

            Wednesday morning Specs woke her up.  Hotshot didn't need to be in court that day but she wanted to be.  She wanted to know what had happened that night, and she was sure neither Spot nor Rebel would repeat the story to her later that night.  Specs was coming with her for no real reason, just to be there.  She changed and met him downstairs.  They were going to be late if they didn't hurry.  They were the last two people to slip into the courtroom before the doors were shut.

            Instead of moving to the front to sit near Denton and her father Hotshot took a seat in the very last row.  Specs hesitated but she motioned for him to sit in the back.  He sat down next to her on the bench as the judge entered.  Much of the traditional court procedure had to be gone through before Spot and Rebel were questioned so everyone in the courtroom sat and listened to Edwards and Denton's statements.   

When Denton began to question Rebel Specs let his gaze wander around the courtroom.  His eyes widened as they stopped on a blonde haired boy sitting at the table with Hotshot's father.  "Hotshot is that-"

She stopped him by nodding vigorously.

Before Specs could say anything else he was stopped by Denton's voice echoing through the room.  "Mr. Conlon, did you witness the murder of Mr. Alexander Thomas Sr.?"

Specs gasped, causing the heads of a few near them to turn for a second. 

"Yes I did."  Spot's answer was said in an unrecognizable voice.

"Was it the accused, Mr. Lynn, who killed him?"

"No."

"Are the true murderers in this courtroom today?"

"Yes."

"Would you please point them out and state their names for the court?"

Spot pointed to the table where Edwards was sitting with Joseph, and Jonathan Pulitzer as well as Spot's father.  "It was Jonathan Pulitzer and Lawrence Conlon who killed him."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

When Edwards' turn came he practically jumped on Spot, "How old were you when this incident occurred?"   

            "I'd just turned seven."

            "And it was at night that this happened, am I right, a very dark and rainy night?"

            "Yes it was," Spot agreed.

            "If it was so dark how can you be sure what you saw?"

            "I know what I saw."

            Edwards went off in another direction, "Have you ever committed a crime, Mister Conlon?"

            Spot paused for a moment, "What newsie hasn't.  I haven't done as much as some but I've done some things I shouldn't have."

            "Isn't it true that when you witnessed the murder you were running away from the refuge?"

            "Yes."

            "How much time did you and your brother have left to serve?"

            "About six months."

            "Perhaps you should be sent back to finish your sentence," he mused aloud, "No further questions."

            "Did you witness the murder?" Denton asked Rebel.

            "Yes," Rebel replied in a flat tone.

            "Why didn't you go to the police?"

            "We couldn't have."

            "Why not?"

            "We were only newsies, and we were running away at that.  The bulls, 'scuse me police, wouldn't have believed us."

            "Do you agree with your brother on who killed Mr. Thomas?"

            "Yes, it was them."

            Edwards seemed to pick up where he'd left off with Spot.  "How old were you when you saw the murder?"

            "I was sixteen."

            "How is it you are sure of what you saw?"

            Rebel glared at Mr. Edwards, "I was carrying Spot back to the Brooklyn lodging house 'cause it was late an' he couldn't keep up.  He was bein' me lookout and saw our father in the alley I was walking down so I hid.  A few minutes later our dad stopped this guy comin' down the alley, Mr. Thomas.  Mr. Pulitzer was following Thomas and," he threw a sympathetic glance at Dutchy, "They killed him.  I watched it with my own eyes, so did Spot."

            "But wasn't it dark?"

            "It didn't matter," Rebel fought to keep his voice calm.  He wanted to scream at the man in front of him, "Me an' Spot had been in the dark streets for over an hour.  Our eyes were used to it.  When they left I picked Spot up and got us out of there.  We didn't go to the cops."

            "You wouldn't let your brother go to the police?"

            "I wasn't about them to let them throw my seven-year-old brother back in the refuge for another year.  I told him to forget about it and we avoid the subject."

            "Why didn't you go to the police?"

            "I couldn't afford ta go back to the refuge."

            As Rebel returned to his seat Hotshot could see he was trembling with anger.  He briefly placed a hand on Dutchy's shoulder as he passed the younger boy.  Denton leaned across the table and whispered something.  Both Dutchy and Hotshot's father nodded.   When Denton stood again Dutchy walked up and sat in the chair that had been previously occupied by Rebel.

            Dutchy looked horrible.  He hadn't been crying but his eyes were red and he was more pale than usual.  Denton had obviously told him to dress more nicely than usual, because he was dressed in his best clothes and his light blonde hair was parted and combed neatly.

            "Dutchy," Denton said calmly, "Will you please state your full name for the court?"

            "Alexander Thomas Jr."  Dutchy gulped and sat back.

            "Will you please tell me about your life leading up to your father's death Dutchy?"  Denton knew he had to be patient with Dutchy.

            The young man swallowed and began to speak.  "I lived with me mum and dad in Germany.  My dad was always coming between Germany and America on business.  He worked for Mr. Lynn's company.  When I was four me mum an' me finally moved to America with him.  They said it was important that I learned English, but I spoke Dutch a lot.  I learned a little English and I could read too.  When I was about seven-an'-a-half my parents made a huge deal 'cause me dad was being considered for a 'partner' in Mr. Lynn's law firm.   The other guy they were considerin' was Mr. Pulitzer.  One night me dad went to Mr. Lynn's house to make the final decision.  The next morning they found his body in the alley."

            "Did your family have a lot of money?"

            "We had enough for me mum an' me to live on but she didn't see a reason to live anymore."

            "What else happened, Dutchy?  How did you become a newsie?"

            "Me mum didn't have any will to live so she stopped working and got sick.  Really sick." Dutchy stopped and took a few deep breaths.  "Before she died she told me they were going to put me in an orphanage and that she didn't want me to go there.  She wanted me to go out and get a job.  I was nine when she died.  The nurse took me to the orphanage, but I snuck out that night.  I was sorta panicked 'cause I'd been wit' 'er when she died so I was speaking Dutch.  I ran into a guy named Mush and I was mumbling in Dutch.  It was the middle of winter and it was snowing so he brought me back to the lodging house.  Me friend Bumlets knew that I was speaking in Dutch 'cause he's part gypsy, an' he knows a little bit of a lot a languages.  He yelled 'Hey Dutchy' and told me to speak in English.  He got me calmed down and I fell asleep.  I been sellin' papes ever since."

            "Did you know who Ms. Lynn's father was when she first came to the lodging house?" Edwards' first question came out harshly.

            "Not until she told us what her real name was and what happened.  I knew it wasn't her father though."

            "Why couldn't it have been her father?"

            "'Cause she said he didn't leave the house after Pulitzer and me dad left."

            "And you believe her?"  He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

            "A course I do!"

            "Admit it Mr. Thomas," Edwards all but yelled, "You think that Mr. Lynn killed your father!"

            Hotshot couldn't listen to this anymore.  She jumped up from her seat and left the courtroom with the doors banging behind her.  She refused to listen to them harass Dutchy and make her father look like a criminal any longer.  When Specs came running after her she quickened her pace and left the building.  Once she was outside she dodged through alleys and around carts until she lost him.  She allowed herself to slow down and wandered the streets.  After a few minutes she found herself in front of Pulitzer's mansion.  

"Damn you!" she yelled picking up a rock from the ground, "Why do you have to ruin my life!"  She launched the rock at the house and smiled as a basement window shattered.  Then she started running again.

This time she stopped in central park and sat down near the water.  Memories of her father's co-workers were flooding her mind.  Not of the night Dutchy's father had died, but of the times before that; her father's Christmas parties when their families came as well.

*~*~*Flashback*~*~*

            There was a group of carolers outside singing Christmas songs.  She sat at the window watching them.  She knew what was going on inside from just the sounds.  The women were gossiping and the men were talking about business.  The young boys were in other rooms and the girls were all seated around the table.  The twins were sneaking upon her, and were planning to jump on her.  Her father had always said she picked up on things quickly.  

"Aaron, Salina, if either of you jumps on me I will lock you in your room."  She turned to see her two younger siblings looking defeated.

"Brooke," The call came from blond haired Samantha, the daughter of a wealthy businessman her father knew, "Brooke, come sit with us."  She walked and joined them around the table.  

The girls were talking about the new clothes they had asked for as Christmas gifts.  Samantha was talking about a new dress, Charlotte was sure she would get a fur coat, and Cynthia gushed about a pearl necklace.

"What did you ask for, Brooke?" Cynthia turned and asked her.

The girl turned to her and thought about what to say.  Should she say what they wanted to hear or what she really wanted?  Before she could stop it one answer left her mouth, "A slingshot."  As the girls shot her strange looks Brooke got up and left the table.  She wandered over to her father and asked, "Where's Andres?"

"In the kitchen," he replied bending down to speak with her as another man approached with his wife and son.

"Good evening Christian," the man said.  Brooke knew who he was; he was her father's business partner, Mr. Thomas.  He continued, "I would like you to meet my wife, Melinda, and my son, Alex."

Mr. Lynn kissed Mrs. Thomas' hand, "Very nice to meet you.  This is my daughter Brooke.  Sweetheart, why don't you bring Alex into the kitchen and help him find your brother.  Then go outside and buy a paper from one of the newsies."  He handed his daughter a dime from his pocket and Mr. Thomas nodded for his son to follow her.

Brooke walked along with the boy and stopped in the kitchen; her brother wasn't there.  She looked at the older boy.  His hair was a very light blonde and his skin was extremely pale.

"What?" he asked, seeing her look at him.

"You look weird."  Even at a young age she spoke her mind.

"I'm from Germany," he said, and she nodded.

"I'm going to go buy a paper.  Come with me if you want.  I'll help you find Andres when you I get back."  She walked out through the kitchen door and found him following her.  "Rebel," she called running to the corner.  

A newsie stood there waiting.  He smiled when he saw her.  "Good evening Miss Lynn," he nodded.

"My dad would like a paper."  She handed him the coin and he handed her a paper, looking through his pocket for change afterward.  "Keep the change." She told him before turning and walking back to the house with Alex.  

Her brother appeared in front of them in the kitchen and she introduced Alex to the rest of the boys.  

"Do you wanna play poker?" Andres asked, "We're sick of black jack and David thinks he can kick your butt."

She nodded and followed the pack of boys upstairs.  She proceeded to beat each of the boys, except Alex.  Of course this was because of the good hands he was dealt, but all the same they became friends.

From then on at all of the company's events you could usually find them together. Mrs. Lynn and Mrs. Thomas were good friends so they saw each other during the week sometimes as well.  

During picnics in the summer Brooke would steal Alex's slingshot and become a master at using it.  Alex stood up for her when the girls made fun of her wearing boys clothes.  He was the boy that gave her her first kiss.  But then there was a terrible accident…

*~*~*End Flashback*~*~*

            She couldn't believe it.  All this time the Dutchy had been one of her closest friends for two years and she hadn't even recognized him.  And then there was the fact that he hadn't said anything about it.  

            A hand on her shoulder awoke her from her thoughts.  Hotshot looked up to find the four newsies from the courtroom.  

            "You alright?" Specs asked.

            She jumped off of the bench and grabbed Dutchy's arm, "We need to talk Alex."

            He nodded, "Give us ten minutes guys."

            "I can't believe you didn't say anything," she mumbled as the three others left, "I didn't recognize you Dutchy."

            "Brooke don't start- Sorry Hotshot, and don't you dare call me Alex again." Dutchy caught her glare and returned it, "I'm over it ok.  I know your dad didn't kill mine, an' I really didn't recognize you until you told that story…"

            They caught up on old times and met the others back at the lodging house.  She stayed there and played cards until it started getting dark.  Back at the house she stretched out next to Specs and laid her head against his chest wearily.  

            The next day did not seem any better.  She sat next to Spot and Rebel in the row behind her father.  She was dreading the whole day and wanted it to be over.  

            Edwards Was first to question her, "You were six-and-a-half when the incident occurred?"

            "Yes I was."  She couldn't help being short with him.

            "At that age were you aware of what business your father was in?"

            "I knew he was a lawyer.  He taught me tactics for court and I watched 'im work a few times."

            "And you knew his business associates?"

            "Most of them.  He hosted parties and picnics a lot."

            "So you knew Mr. Pulitzer and Mr. Thomas?"

            "Yes."

            "And were they both kind?"

            "From what I saw of them yes, although Mr. Pulitzer had a habit of drinking too much and starting fights."

            None of her answers were the ones that Mr. Edwards wanted.  He sat down and allowed Denton to interrogate her.

            "Brooke," he apologized with his eyes for using her real name, "Do you remember the night of the incident?"

            She nodded, "Yes."

            "Were you there?"

            "I was sitting on the staircase."

            "Brooke, can you tell us what happened that night?"

*~*~*Flashback*~*~*

            The family had been visiting Christian's brother's family for a week.  Unfortunately he had to come back two days early for business meetings.  Brooke begged him to let her come, and he gave in.  She'd stolen Andres' slingshot before they left and planned to practice with it at home.  She knew he'd scream at her when the rest of them got back but she'd be ready to argue.

            The night after they got back she came downstairs to see her father and found him letting two of his business partners in.  She recognized them both right away.  Without hesitation she ran into the room.  "Hi Mista Pulitzer.  Hi Mista Thomas.  Didja bring Alex!?"

            Pulitzer shot a look at her and shook his head, but Mr. Thomas smiled, "Good evening Brooke.  Sorry, Alex is at home.  If I'd known you'd be here I would have brought him."

            "Christian," Pulitzer's voice cut through, "Can we please get down to business, _without the child." _

            Her father nodded, "Of course."  He hugged his daughter and gave her a knowing look, "Brooke, honey, why don't you go upstairs."

            "Ok, night Dad," she left the room and took a seat on the stairs, out of everyone's sight.  She quieted her breathing and sat there listening to their discussion.

            The three men discussed the firm for close to half an hour.  Their discussion varied from each man's cases to other people that worked at the firm.  Brooke was starting to get bored when Mr. Pulitzer brought up a new topic.

            "Christian, you really need to decide on a new partner soon."

            "That is why I called the two of you here," she could almost hear him smiling, "It was narrowed down to you two and now we need to discuss what each of you can bring to the company."

            Brooke paid careful attention to the rest of their conversation.  It lasted for about ten minutes before Mr. Thomas got to his feet.  "Well I must be going.  I told Melinda I would be home by ten thirty."  He got to his feet and the other two followed him to the door.  Brooke moved farther into the shadows.

            After Mr. Thomas had left Pulitzer closed the door and turned to her father, "Which way are you leaning Christian?"

            "John, I'm leaning toward Alex.  Please, don't take it personally.  I just think he has more to offer the firm and his people skills are somewhat better."  He kept his voice calm and even. 

Jonathan opened the door again and shut it behind him.  The loud slam echoed throughout the downstairs and Christian winced.  He turned to find her at the bottom of the stairs.

"So what do you think?" he asked sitting in one of the chairs.

She climbed up in his lap, "I think Mr. Thomas is better."

"Do you have a reason?"

"Well," the young girl paused, "Mr. Thomas is really calm and nice to everyone.  Mr. Pulitzer starts fights and I don't like his attitude."

Christian laughed at his daughters answer, "I agree.  Would you like to help me tell them tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "Will you tell me a story?"

"A story about what?"

"The newsies."

So Christian told his daughter a story about being a newsie.  It wasn't until late the next night that her father was told about the murder.  Giving him less than a minute to grieve he was arrested.  Brooke stayed with a neighbor until her mother returned.

*~*~*End Flashback*~*~*

            "That night Mr. Thomas and Mr. Pulitzer came to the house.  They talked about business and my dad asked what they thought they could bring to the firm as partner.  Mr. Thomas left first and Mr. Pulitzer left a few minutes later."

            "Do you know who your father was going to choose as partner?"

            "Yes Mr. Thomas."

            "Do you believe your friends' story of what they saw?"

            "Yes."

            "Why?"

            "My dad told Mr. Pulitzer that he was leaning toward Mr. Thomas for partner before Mr. Pulitzer left.  He seemed really upset about the decision, and he's the kind of person who makes things go his way no matter who he has to step on along the way."

            "Thank you Brooke.  No further questions, Your Honor."

            After the judge ordered a recess until the next day the newsies split into two groups.  Rebel and Dutchy walked back to the lodging house, while Hotshot walked with Spot.  She felt like she was in a daze and remembering the past made her sick.  She'd originally planned to go play poker with some of the guys but Spot had grabbed her arm and said 'Let's go for a walk'.  That was the end of the discussion.

            The two of them walked through the streets in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge, but before they reached it turned toward Central Park.  The whole walk was completely silent, except the occasional carriage driver yelling for them to get out of the way.  When Hotshot took a seat on an empty bench in the park Spot leaned against the tree next to it.

            "Feeling better?" he asked.

            She nodded, "Thanks."

            "So have I been forgiven for that little stunt on the roof last week?"

            "Yes, Spot." She smiled, "You're forgiven."

            "Good.  Anyway, do you mind if me and the Brooklyn boys go home this weekend?  We sorta wanna get back home for a little bit."

            "I know the feeling Spot, trust me," she smiled remembering her first few weeks in Manhattan, "Have a good time and say 'hi' to everyone for me."

            He pushed himself away from the tree.  "I'm gonna head back to the lodging house.  I'll see you tomorrow."

            She stood up and hugged him, "Thanks for helping with my dad, Spot."

            "Welcome," he said.  As she sat down again he kissed her cheek.

            Hotshot sat on the bench long after Spot had left, thinking about everything.  There was a large list of topics running through her head.  Each of them needed to be figured out within the next few weeks, and each of them gave her a headache.  She didn't notice it was getting late until an elderly couple walking through the park asked why she wasn't at home so late at night.  She thanked them for their concern and began the walk to her home.  The boys were waiting for her and started a poker game that got her mind off of everything.

            People surrounded the next day the courtroom.  Some of them were friends of her father's and she recognized them.  Others were people who had insisted the judge had done the right thing by putting her father in jail.  Her father's appeal had sparked the interest of most of New York, which had also sparked interest of the already notorious case between her and Pulitzer.

            Reporters were screaming questions at Hotshot and her friends as they entered the courthouse.  Hotshot simply ignored them, the other newsies following suit.  She sat patiently on the bench behind her father.  Dutchy and Specs were on one side of her and Rebel on the other.  He'd made Spot stay outside so he could get out of there quickly if it was needed.  The judge walked to his seat ready to announce the verdict.  Hotshot didn't hear the short speech he gave before the part she was waiting for.

            "On the charges of murder I find Mr. Christian Lynn innocent," Judge Monahan said.

            Hotshot released a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  Dutchy was smiling brilliantly and had a hand on her shoulder.  Rebel still sat stiffly in his seat.

            The judge continued, "As for the murder of Mr. Alexander Thomas Sr. I find Mr. Lawrence Conlon guilty of murder, a sentence to be served in the State Penitentiary, and Mr. Jonathan Pulitzer guilty of being an associate to murder…"

            Spot's composure relaxed on the bench, but his older brother stayed tense.

            "I sentence Mr. Conlon to one life sentence," Now Rebel relaxed. "And Mr. Pulitzer, I fine one thousand dollars."

            Mr. Conlon looked extremely lethal as the police led him out of the building.  Pulitzer looked apologetic, but smug at the same time.  He sat in his chair as his brother filled out a check.  

            "I'll be at the Brooklyn house if you want to come visit," her father said, "And I'll come to the rest of your trial.  I have to get my affairs in order first though."

            She turned to her father and hugged him, "Alright, I'll drop by next weekend.  I promise.  Oh, and Dad, the Brooklyn newsies use the Brooklyn place when they're hiding from the bulls so just leave the kitchen door open and tell them you're Hotshot's dad."

            He grinned, "Leave it to you to think up something like that.  I'll see you next weekend.  Tell Andres I'll pick him up at the Manhattan lodging house in two hours."

            Spot was waiting outside as anxious, maybe even more than before.  It was obvious no one had told him the trials outcome.

            Rebel wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders.  "It's over.  He's got a life sentence.  It's over Spot."

            Spot hugged his brother, almost crying.  Brooke could tell but didn't make fun of him for it, she was almost crying too.  He turned to her, "Your dad out?"

            She nodded happily, "He's goin' ta Brooklyn.  The newsies are still welcome to hide there though.  He's taking Andres with him."

            The group walked back to the lodging house, ignoring any reporters they saw along the way.  None of the newsies had to ask the trial's outcome when they saw the happy looks on their friends' faces.  The entire lodging house made it's way to Tibby's where a party was thrown and poker games were started.  

            Hotshot sat a little ways apart from the others.  She'd joined them after her father had picked Andres up.  Now she sat there grinning about her father's release.  The day was only ruined by thoughts in the back of her mind.  The fact that Pulitzer could still have custody of her worried her more now than ever.

A/N:  I'm havin' fun right now.  Ok, this chapter was easy, but the Dutchy bit I thought of caused some problems early on.  It's done though.  This might be the last chapter this week, I'll try for one this weekend but there are parties and I'll be dead from (BC) Ugh!

            I'm trying to be nicer to Spot (Lange) if this isn't good enough for you give me a suggestion.  I'm sorry if I said only a few people reviewed but I would love it if those who read but don't review would review as well as those who always do. 

            Oh yeah, almost forgot, remember in the last chapter when Mitchell talked about two newsies in the newspaper.  Whoever can figure out who they are will get a special shout-out in the next chapter.  Have a great, I'll try to get more up if reviews keep comin'.  Byes!                                                  ~Megan~~~


	23. Courtroom Dangers

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 23

By Megan

            Her father's court battle had brought more media attention to her case.  That didn't keep her from falling asleep the first few days of the week.  She didn't have to worry about Daniel or Mitchell until Friday so she was relaxed.  That was her attitude when she got there on Wednesday, until Denton sprung some news on her.  Both of the Pulitzer's were going to be testifying that day.  The two men weren't there yet, but their lawyer was.  Edwards stood near his seat giving her a look that said good-luck-but-we-both-know-I'm-going-to-win.  She returned his look with one of her own.  As newsies started to enter the courtroom she sat down in her seat.  

            She shot daggers at her stepfather and his brother.  The two of them never looked up during the opening comments, but Edwards sent occasional arrogant glances her way.  Jonathan Pulitzer was called to the stand first.

            "Mr. Pulitzer," Denton began, "For how long did Ms. Lynn live in your home?"

            The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "A year, perhaps a bit more."

            "Under what circumstances did she come to live with you?"

            "Her mother died in a carriage accident."

            "And why was she not informed that her brother and stepfather survived?"

            "Her stepfather was not in any condition to care for her and her brother acted out violently against the hospital staff.  We thought it would be best not to expose her to that kind of activity.  Unfortunately, I must say it did not work very well."

            "Mr. Pulitzer, did she object strongly when you sent her to a private school and monitored who she associated with?"

            "Yes."

            "So why did you do it?"

            "It is not my job to be her friend, Mr. Denton.  I am here to look out for her best interest."

            "So you would not allow her to associate with newsies or any members of a lower class."

            "No, I would not."

            "Mr. Pulitzer, did Ms. Lynn ever misbehave?" Mr. Edwards was beaming as he began questioning.

            "Frequently."

            "Was this around the times where she ran away or was dragged beck by the police?" 

            "Yes, the rest of the time she behaved better."

            "So you think the newsies had a bad influence in her?"

            "Without a doubt."

            "Did you punish her?" 

            "Yes, though not very strictly."

            "What about your brother, did he ever hit Ms. Lynn as she claims?"

            "Never."

            "Thank you Mr. Pulitzer."

            Most of what he said had been the truth, but it had been stretched so that it sounded different than it had actually been.  Instead of making her sound like a normal teenager she sounded like a grafter.  Everything she had done was blown out of proportion and Jonathan was undoubtedly only going to make it worse.

            "Mr. Pulitzer," Denton began after Jonathan had taken the oath, "How long did you live in a household with Ms. Lynn?"

            "Somewhere between five and six years."

            "And how had you met her originally?"

            "I was Mr. Lynn's business partner.  After he was arrested his wife turned to me for comfort."

            "How long after you were married did you begin to beat on them?"

            "I never hit my wife!"

            "What about her son and daughter?"

            "I did not hit Brooke as she claims but her brother needed more sever punishment.  I only hit him when it was a necessity."  

            "Did you monitor her friends like your brother did after the accident?"

            "Yes, she was young and impressionable.  I didn't want her to be influenced by pickpockets and thieves.  I wanted her to associate with those in her own social class.  They _are the people she will do business with when she is an adult."_

            "How did you punish her for running off with her brother?"

            "I lectured her.  She picked up a bad habit from her brother and his friends; a blank stare that makes it seem like she isn't paying attention.  For that I would just ground her to get the message across."

            Hotshot was fuming with anger in her seat.  Her stepfather had lied during most of his testimony, and, like Pulitzer, made it seem like everything was her fault.

            "Jonathan, did you ever develop a relationship with Brooke, or her brother Andres?"

            "Unfortunately not.  I had a very strong relationship with their mother and the twins, but those two never gave me a chance.  They always held some sort of grudge against me.  No matter what I did they always hated me."

            "Did you give them any reason to hate you?"

            "None, I was as respectful to them as I could possibly be.  They made false accusations and made up their own little stories."

            "Did you have any problems with their father before his arrest?"

            "None."

            "Bullshit." Hotshot hissed too quietly for most to hear.  Denton shot her a glare.

            "I never had a problem with anyone in that company.  I even defended the names of some employees that really shouldn't have been protected."

            "So you never started a fight?"

            "The only time I ever fought was fighting back in self defense."

            "It was never you that started it?"

            "Never."  

            That afternoon Hotshot ran to the distribution office the minute court let out for the day.  She was boiling with rage about the lies and ides they had planted in the judges mind that afternoon.  She barely scanned the headlines and ran all over Manhattan selling as many papers as possible.  She avoided talking to any of her friends and avoided selling with them even more.  Spot was the one who kept up with her the longest, and even that was only for five minutes.  She left a letter for the sleeping Kid Blink with Mush and then returned to the lodging house.  Most of the newsies were already back from selling and poker games had started in every corner of the room.

            "So how many papes didja sell?"  The question rose from a large group of boys that surrounded Racetrack.

            "Sold all my hundred and sixty I bought offa two newsies from the other lodging house." She said not missing a beat.

            Race nearly dropped his cigar, "That's a hundred and sixty papes, Hotshot."

            "I'm aware of that Race," she said sitting down, "An' all that money's burnin' a hole in my pocket so you betta deal me in!"

            She played with the group, winning and losing money at a steady interval.  The news of her selling spread and occasionally other newsies would ask her if Race was only being a hot air artist again.  After a few hours she took a break and sat on one of the empty bunks, leaning against the frame.

            It was a few hours later that she woke up.  Specs was closing the window to her room and she was lying under a thin blanket.  She pushed it off and sat up, "What happened?"

            "You fell asleep," he said, "Now get some rest."  

Before she could argue he kissed her forehead and left the room.  She just shook her head and curled up.  He came back a while later and sat down next to her.  That was the last thing she remembered before falling asleep once again.

"Hotshot, c'mon wake up."  

She tried to bury herself further under the blanket, trying to escape from the voice of her provoker.  

"C'mon Hotshot," he said again.

"Go away," she groaned.

With a sigh her assailant pulled the thin blanket off of the bed, "It's time to get up Hotshot," he said, "We're leaving in ten minutes."

She looked up to find Specs mostly dressed, missing only his vest and boots.  "Fine, get out so I'se can get dressed."  When he was gone she threw on some clean clothes and ran a brush through her messy and tangled hair.  Then she ran downstairs to find the three boys in the kitchen.  Specs' hair was disheveled as ever so she ran her hand through it to smooth it out a little.  Race and David both gave her an equally smug look from the minute she entered the room.  "What?"

"So have a good time last night, Hots?" Race asked.

"Only Pickpocket's allowed to call me that," she stated, "An' what are you talkin' 'bout Race?"

"Hello Hotshot, the way back here last night."  When she gave him a confused look Racetrack continued, "When Specs carried you back here 'cause you fell asleep at the lodgin' house."

Hotshot immediately blushed, reminding herself to thank Specs for _not telling her later.  She looked over to find him turning a pale shade of red as well.  "What're you getting at Race?"_

"Nuthin' Hotshot," he said, "Absolutely nuthin'."

She looked over to ask David but found him extremely interested in her breakfast.  She sat in her chair and stood a moment later when Rosa hurried them out the door, into Denton's waiting carriage.  

She talked with a few of the boys before court started that morning and watched quietly as some of them were questioned.  She sold with them during the afternoon; staying with a large group to keep her mind off of the tragedy the next day was going to be.  Mitchell and Daniel were on the stand, meaning they were going to try to make her life a living hell.

Daniel was questioned first.  The only way she could describe how he looked was smug.  She sat in her chair behind Denton's desk with an unreadable look across her face.  She bit her lip nervously as Denton began questioning.

"Mr. Taylor, how long have you been betrothed to Ms. Lynn?"

"Four years," he said it proudly.

"And how much of that time have you spent with her?"

"The past month or two when we've lived in her father's mansion.  I would have loved to spend more time with her but her uncle couldn't find her."

"Why didn't you launch into your own search then?"

Daniel was silent for a moment, "I don't know, sir."

How have you treated her while the two of you have been living in the same house?"

"I treat her like I would if she were my wife.  I hope she will be after this is over."

"What about your friends?  How do you treat them?"

"I treat them like I treat other people their age, with as much respect as they deserve."

"If you were married would she still be able to see her friends?"

Daniel looked appalled, "Absolutely not!  I don't want my wife associating with scum like that."

"Thank you Mr. Taylor."

"Daniel," Mr. Edwards began, "How long have you known Ms. Lynn?"

"Between five and six years."

"And how did you get to know her?"

"I met her at several of her stepfather's and uncles business parties.  At each one she came onto me and she invited me to her room a few times."

Hotshot's hands tightened on the arms of the chair as a few heads turned in her direction.

"And how did she act when she heard of you proposal?"

"She wanted to get married then but I assured her that we were too young."

Her hands tightened even more.

"What about lately, at her mansion?  Have you spent time together there?"

No we have not spent much time together."

Hotshot relaxed slightly.

"She comes onto me when we're alone but when I go to her room she threatens me with a knife.  I swear she almost killed me the last two times, but thankfully she was stopped."

"Who stopped her?"

"A newsie.  That one, Specs.  I came back later and he was in bed with her.  The other newsies talk about them going out and he's in her room every night.  He sells with her all the time too."

She knew her face was red with anger without thinking about it.  She calmed herself down and glanced over her shoulder at her friends.  Specs was redder than she was, whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.

"Do you think that she's seeing him?"

"I certainly do.  They spend more time together than any of the newsies and the way they talk to each other is like the way my friends talk to their wives.  They're in bed together every night.  I think they're lovers."

"Thank you, Daniel.  You may step down."

Mitchell looked calm and collected as he sat in the chair.  A dangerous combination if you asked any newsie who knew him.  The only way you could detect what he was thinking was by the crazy gleam in his eyes.  Most of the Brooklyn newsies and some from Manhattan groaned as he smiled at them.

"Mr. Mitchell, how long have you known Ms. Lynn?" Denton started.

"Ten years, maybe a little more."

"And have you been on good terms with her?"

"Sometimes good, sometimes bad.  More good though."

"Bull." Hotshot mumbled.

"If you were on good terms with her than why did you help her uncle catch her?"

"We weren't on good terms then.  Now I am truly sorry that I did it."

"Isn't she the reason you left the Brooklyn newsies and started your own gang?"

"No.  Spot ruled differently than Rebel did and I didn't agree with his ways.  I told him that in a meeting and he told me I could always leave.  I tried to get Hotshot or Lockpick to support me but they agreed with him.  I wasn't going to stay under his rule so I left and started a group for anyone else who disagreed with Spot."

"Did you ever have feelings toward her as more than just friends?"

"Yeah, but she was with Spot and I wasn't about to go after his goil.  After I left I mean.  They hooked up after he became leader and I was gone."

"Mr. Mitchell, are you and Ms. Lynn being on good terms and bad terms determined by you or her."  Edwards asked.

"It was determined by her.  She was into me before Spot became leader, but after I left that put us on bad terms."

"What about before you left, and before she was with Spot?  Was there anything between you?"

"Yeah, she'd come to my room about once a week, sometimes twice.  She was with Spot or one of the other guys some nights.  A bunch of the guys called her 'the little whore'.  After I left one of the fellas that joined me said she was in Spot's room every night.  I didn't agree wit' them when I was there but I had to after I left."

Hotshot wanted to jump out of her chair and scream at him.  Not one word out of his mouth had been the truth.  He was making her sound like something she wasn't.  If Specs didn't have her knife he'd be dead by now.  Denton's hand on her arm and the stern look on his face were the only things that kept her from launching into a verbal attack.

"So she was sleeping with you?" Edwards asked.

"Yeah," Mitchell answered, "I thought she was my goil but I wasn't the only one."

"Do you think she's continuing this practice with the Manhattan newsies?"

"I'm sure of it," he snarled, "Probably with that Specs guy the most though."

"Thank you Mr. Mitchell."   

The newsies were surrounding Mitchell when Hotshot left the courtroom.  She saw Spot advancing on the older boy and went to intervene.  She reached into Specs' vest pocket as she passed him and found that her knife wasn't in it.  

"Specs?"

"I knew you'd come to me so I have someone else holding it, but don' worry, he's trustworthy."

She went passed him and stepped into the center, shoving Spot out of the way.  Spot glared back to find the person who had pushed him, but his face softened a little, but not much, when he saw it was her.

"What's your problem, Mitchell!" she yelled, "Every word you said in there was a lie!"

"You sure?" he asked with a sardonic grin, "You sure you ain't wit' one a these boys right now?"

"Yes," she hissed, "Damn Mitchell, I swear if I had my knife on me I'd kill you right now."

Mitchell laughed; he was twice her size and unbeatable in fights.  He didn't dare challenge anyone he thought could beat him, so he never lost.  "The feeling's mutual Hotshot.  It would feel so good to have your blood soaking my hands.  Of course you know I'd beat you slow and painful first, make sure you die slow, and in front of others too."

"Go to hell Mitchell!"

He came closer to her, "Don't worry.  You'll get your chance to fight me sooner than you think."  

She spat in his face and shoved him away from her, hard.  He hit the pavement and pushed himself up.  With one last sadistic look over his shoulder he pushed through the crowd and was gone.  

The group walked back to the lodging house and settled around the bunkroom.  Hotshot sat in her bunk and focused on the underside of Specs' bunk until she calmed down.  Everyone in the room was overly nice to her and as soon as she got the chance she slipped out the window.  

She sat on the roof's ledge, tossing small rocks down into the alley and aiming for any scabs she saw along the street.  She'd been up there for half an hour and was starting to wish she'd taken Race up on his offer to join his poker game.  

"You should be careful not to fall." A voice behind her said and she nearly fell forward in surprise. 

 A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back off of the ledge and kept her from falling.  She let out a cry, during the second where she saw the street beneath her before he grabbed her.

Hotshot let out a string of curses as she turned around, "Jesus, Specs, what were you thinking?"

Specs was watching her with an astonished look on his face, "You yelled."

"Duh Specs, I had a straight view of the street from several stories up, and there was nothing to keep me from falling.  That, plus, most people who are scared of heights will yell when they're in a situation like that."  She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as she revealed another secret about herself.

Specs grinned, "You're scared of heights.  You.  The fearless goil from Brooklyn.  I thought you weren't scared of nuthin'."

"Well youse wrong then ain't you," she said, "I'm fine as long as there's a wall like on the tops of buildings or on the bridge.  I'm even fine when I sit on the ledge, but it took me forever to even go that far.  If there's a chance of falling I freak."

"Does Spot know?"

She shrugged, "Maybe, I never told anybody.  An' in Brooklyn there were always ropes and stuff to get down on.  Don't tell no one."

"I won't," Specs was settling down from his recent discovery and now had an unreadable look on his face.

"Specs, you ummm…" she faltered, "You didn't believe what Mitchell and Daniel said taday did you?"

"No, they's both jerks.  You ain't been wit' anyone like that, have you?"

"No." she smiled, "Don't plan on it for a while."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments.

"When d'we gotta head back?" Specs asked.

"'bout twenty minutes," Hotshot said, looking at her pocket watch, "So is Bumlets goin' back to the hospital tonight."

"Yeah, Mush wants to stay but he's been sellin' real lousy lately.  Can't afford to miss selling this weekend." 

"C'mon," she said getting up and offering him a hand, "Let's go find Dave and Race and get going."

He accepted her hand and the two of them descended to the bunkroom in search of their friends.

A/N:  Finally, I'm back.  Dude, band camp was a killer and when I got back I had a killer case of writers block.  Too much goin' on in my world.  Going out with friends every night, sister's first boyfriend, Agh!  

Anyway I want to thank those of you that reviewed the last chapter (there weren't many).  It would be nice to get more reviews for this chapter.  Special shout out to Moon*Star who figured out the two newsies, and Neffie who got one of 'em.  You will be receiving your half fave newsies guy via e-mail next year.  

Everyone go read Stage's stories right now.  They're all great and I absolutely love them all.  And for those of you who still have a fear of reviewing.  GET! OVER! IT!  ::hits with rolled up newspaper to emphasis each word.::

Also I figured I'd give reviewers a heads up.  My next story will be the stories of how each guy became a newsie/ got name. Meaning 1 or 2 chapters a guy.  For another story I want girlfriends for each. 1st come 1st serve.  E-mail me your character, love interest, I'll just do an example,

Character: Brooke 'Hotshot' Lynn     Love interest: Specs   Height: 5'5"   Weight: (Medium/ thin/ heavy)  Hair: Lt. Brown  Eyes: Hazel  Lives: Brooklyn  moved to Manhattan LH.    Close friends: Kid Blink, Bumlets…   Personality/ physical: (be very descriptive with your personality{emotional, sarcastic, etc.} and physical description{clothes, scars etc.})  I'd also love it if you'd tell me other facts… {good at poker} and don't make them to mary sueish.     Then whatever else I should know.  

If interested e-mail me at Megstar1387@aol.com.  I'll save each e-mail and send one back if I need more info about your character.  There will be who's with whom in each chapter's shout outs.   Thanks a ton.  Oh btw, I need a real name and family members, not just newsie names.  I'll accept up to three per newsie.  Thanks for your time!                                                                                  ~Megan~~~  


	24. Stolen

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 24

By Megan

            Hotshot ignored the first two boys who came to wake her up the next morning.  Neither Specs nor David had anything to threaten her with.  She would merely bury herself deeper in her blankets until they went away.   

            Racetrack came in brandishing a metal bucket.  He put it down on the table next to her bed.  Hotshot opened one eye lazily and closed it again.  "If you do I'll shoot you in youse sleep."  

            "C'mon Hotshot, it's almost nine.  Youse gotta get up." He complained.

            She opened an eye again to see him smiling evilly, "I told you if you do-"

            "You'll hafta catch me first."

            She pushed herself, not in the mood to get soaked that early, "Alright I'm up."

            Racetrack didn't leave until she'd pulled clothes out of her closet; probably thinking she'd go back to sleep.  Hotshot knew she would have.  On Saturday they'd woken her up early to go selling.  She was hoping they'd let her have one day of peace before court started again.

            She ate a quick breakfast and met the boys in the living room.  She took a chair and sat down to think.  There were only two weeks left.  A lot of it was technical stuff but she and Specs were speaking early the second week.  She played poker with the boys for most of the morning and helped Rosa with some of the housework.  Newsies were all that were left to be questioned.  There weren't many left either, but Mr. Edwards had a way of twisting everyone's words around to make it sound like something different.

            Like usual the days passed quickly.  After court Hotshot sold with her friends and lived at the lodging house and Tibby's more than her own home.  When she had a free moment to sneak away she took a walk to Brooklyn and visited her father.  He was almost finished fixing up the house with Andres' help.  The two of them were looking over some of his business records.  Most of his old clients had come back to him after he'd been released; others were drawn by the fact that he was famous.

Wednesday after court had ended she went back to the house with David, Race and Specs.  She wanted to be out selling but the rain kept everyone, newsies, and buyers, inside.  She groaned in annoyance and leaned back in the chair, yelling with surprise as Snipeshooter's face appeared in front of her own.

            "Jesus Snipeshooter, what're ya doin' here?"

            The young boy had jumped back when she yelled, "I came to get David." 

            "Well don' sneak up on me like that," she was laughing now.

            David shrugged on his jacket and followed the younger boy.  The other three stared after him for a moment.  "Wonder what that's about?" Race asked aloud.

            Specs just shrugged and Hotshot slid off the chair into David's now empty spot on the floor.

            "Deal me in," she said.

            Race protested in a mumble; something about not wanting to lose all his money.

            "You're the one who woke me up last weekend, Race." She reminded him.

            The rest of the early afternoon the three of them sat in the living room playing cards.  No one wanted to go out in the rain that had started early the afternoon before and hadn't let up all night or during court that morning.  Even Race was refraining from smoking a cigar outside; Rosa wouldn't let him smoke inside, because of the raw weather.

            When her family had lived in the house these had been the days where she would find a book and just read until she fell asleep.  Unfortunately, the only book she owned was sitting under her bunk in the lodging house.  Instead she spent her time beating Race at poker.

            A frantic knock at the door was the first excuse Race could find to get up and away from his losing streak.  

            "Youse just a sore loser," she called after him.

            When he called back to them Hotshot and Specs walked to the door and found Swifty standing in the entryway.  "Jack wants you guys to come over to the lodgin' house for a while.  We's got a bit of a… um… a situation."  Swifty was soaked, but unlike most of the other newsies he wasn't panting after the long run.

            "Alright, tell 'em we'll be there in ten, maybe fifteen minutes," Hotshot replied, yelling over her shoulder to Rosa as she grabbed her jacket.

            As Swifty ran ahead Hotshot and the two boys walked quickly through the streets.  He'd be there with at least a five-minute wait before they got there as well.  What could you say, there was a reason he was called Swifty.  After all he was the only newsie in the whole city that could run from the Manhattan lodging house to any other lodging house in the city in ten or so minutes.

            The rain slowed the three of them, as it made the ideal situation for accidents.  Each of them slipped several times before they reached Duane Street.

            "I'm surprised Swifty hasn't broken his ankle when he runs on days like this." Specs muttered, cursing as he fell in front of the lodging house steps.  The others grumbled their agreement and Hotshot helped him up.  They slid through the lodging house door, hoping to spend a few hours there before they had to go back out in the streets again.

            Racetrack led the way to the bunkroom and smiled arrogantly as he stepped through the doorway, "Alright, what's so important that youse all need us ta come here an' help ya?"  The short Italian stopped short just inside the door as he saw everyone.  Hotshot and Specs both walked into him and nearly sent him cascading across the floor.

            "What happened?" Specs was frank when he saw the depressed looks on everyone's faces.  Several newsies tried to start speaking but none seemed able to get the words out.

            Hotshot looked around to find David sitting on a bunk with Jack, Spot, and Rebel.  The boy's eyes were red, and puffy, like he'd been crying.  This had something to do with Snipeshooter coming over that morning.  "David," she walked over and stood in front of the bunk, "What happened David?  What's wrong?"

            David turned away and Hotshot felt ready to scream in frustration.  How was she supposed to help if she didn't know what was wrong.

            "Les disappeared," Spot said, "We was all at Tibby's this mornin'.  An' when we left he wasn't with us."

            "Couldn't he have gone off with someone else?" Specs asked.

            "No," Jack shook his head, "Everyone came back here, everyone 'cept you four.  We sent Snipa to get Dave soon as we realized he was missin'.   I stayed here to wait for them ta gat back and the rest of the guys went out lookin' for 'im."

            "And…"

            "An' he's nowhere in Manhattan."

            "Oh God," Hotshot put a hand on the bunk's frame to keep herself from falling, "Oh David, I'm so sorry."

            "Who would take 'im?" David hissed, "He's just a little kid.  We gotta find him."

            "We will, I promise," Hotshot said.

            Jack and a few other newsies walked home with David.  They were going to tell his mother that Les and David were staying at the lodging house for a few days so she wouldn't worry.  They'd stayed there many times before on short notice so she wouldn't find it unusual.

            The rest of the newsies split into groups and combed Manhattan again for the young boy.  Crutchy even stopped by the refuge to see if he'd been brought there for some reason.  It was true; he was nowhere to be found.

            "Maybe we should check Brooklyn," suggested one of the foreign newsies.

            "Les wouldn't go there," David said, "He doesn't even know how to get there."

            "We'll hafta look again tomorrow," Jack said, "Hotshot, you, Specs, and Race better go back 'fore you miss curfew.  David you'll stay here."

            Everyone obediently followed orders and the three of them walked back to the other side of town.  The rain had stopped but a chill ran through the air.  A loud laugh made them all turn.  There, standing under the streetlight stood a tall, lanky newsboy.  He smoked a cigarette and watched the three of them with amusement.  His looks didn't deceive Hotshot though; she knew he was a strong fighter.

            "What do you want Scratch?" she snapped, "And where's your other half?"

            "Right here," another boy, slightly shorter and robustly built stepped out of the shadows, "Evening Hotshot?"

            "Greedy, what're you two doing in Manhattan?"

            "You lose sumthin' lately?  Mitchell said you did an' we wanted ta get in on the action."

            Hotshot turned bright red, considering that they were talking about what Mitchell had said in court.

            Scratch spoke up again, "He told us to tell you that you an' your friends better be careful or it'll happen again."

            "If I had my knife, Scratch, you'd be a dead man." she spat.

            "Sure, Miss Lynn," he teased, "Just be careful not to lose anythin' else that valuable ta you.  I'm sure there'll be others who won't appreciate it."  He threw a dirty gray newsie cap at her feet.  

            She snatched it up to throw back at him but when she looked around they were gone.  She jammed the cap in her pocket, determined to rip it in two and shove the pieces down each of their throats next time she saw them.

            "Who were the scabs?" Race asked, dropping his own cigar and crushing it under his boot.

            "Scratch and Greedy.   Two a Mitchell's guys." She cracked her knuckles in annoyance, hoping to get off the subject as they started walking again.  Race, _for once, took the hint and dropped it._

            Hotshot was pacing in her room around midnight.  She would have climbed up to her spot on the roof but the rain had made the roof to slippery.  She was worried about Les, other things too, but mostly Les.  He was only ten.  If anything happened to him she swore she'd kill the person who'd done it.  Half past twelve and she was still pacing.  

Specs came in the room and stopped in the doorway.  He knew she was worried, everyone was, but she needed sleep or she'd be useless the next day.

Specs' arms closed around her waist and he pulled her over to the bed.  She barely protested as he told her to get some sleep.  She curled up, leaning back against his chest.  His heartbeat, and new rain on the roof lulled her to sleep.  Her last thoughts were 'I hope he's not out there in the rain.'

Court dragged on forever the next day.  When they got out everyone split up and went out on a search.  Hotshot was running through central park when she ran past Pie Eater, who was talking with Snitch and Itey. 

"Hotshot," he ran to catch up with her, "We hafta go back to the lodging house.  Sumthin' happened."

"What?  Could they have found him?"

"I dunno, Jack's just sending everyone back.  Itey, and Snitch found me and told me.  C'mon, let's get back."

The bunkroom was full of hopeful faces when she got there and pushed herself to the front of the group.  Jack was going to be there in a few minutes and everyone wanted to hear his news.  Jack slid in through the fire escape and the room fell silent.  David and Spot were right behind him.  Jack wasn't smiling so she immediately knew Les hadn't been found.

"Mush went to the hospital, to visit Kid Blink," Jack started, "Um… Bumlets disappeared this morning.  At first Blink thought he just went to get some food but he didn't come back.  We searched the whole hospital.  He ain't there."

"You think it's the same one's who took Les?" David asked quietly.

"Who says someone took him?" Snoddy asked.

"It's a feeling, "Jack said, "a feeling a lot of us have."

"The Delancy's." Skittery suggested.

Jack glanced at Snoddy, who shook his head.  The action confused Hotshot but she let it go.  

"No it wasn't them," Jack said, "From now on no one is to go anywhere alone.  Blink's safe at the hospital.  Hotshot, Race, and Specs stay together, everyone else don't go selling alone."  

No one argued; he was right.  Everyone needed to be more careful.  The room wasn't filled with commotion, yelling, or outbusts of anger.  A few hushed whispers were all that you could hear.

"I think I might stay here tanight." Specs said, sitting down next to her, "Snoddy is pretty upset an' Dutchy's freaked out."

"Alright, I think me an' Race are gonna leave pretty soon.  If youse gonna come back later jus' walk back wit' a few a da guys." 

"See ya then," he handed her a small paperback book.  She looked up at him confused.  "You was lookin' for sumthin' ta read the otha day.  Dutchy an' Bumlets gave me that for me birthday last year."

Thanks," she walked over to where Race was sitting and motioned toward the door.  It wasn't until they left several minutes later that Hotshot looked at the book Specs had giver her, The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas.  She stuffed it in her pocket and walked home with Racetrack in silence.  She played Poker with him for almost half an hour.  When she was getting ready for bed that night she curled up on her bed with the book and read for hours.

She sat in court the next morning as the newsies filed into the courtroom.  Dutchy was seated on the bunch behind her, along with Pie Eater, as they were being questioned that day.  As the doors were being shut Hotshot looked around and whispered to Dutchy, "Where's Specs?"

Before Dutchy could answer Judge Monahan entered the room and everyone's attention was diverted to the front of the room.  The testimonies that day did not go as badly as others had.  They were helping to build a strong reason for the judge to grant her emancipation.

            When they were let out around noon she met up with her friends.  She unconsciously did a head count and looked around for Specs, to thank him for the book.  "Again, Dutchy, where's Specs?"

            "How am I supposed to know?" he asked, "He went back to youse house last night?"

            Her blood ran cold, "Who walked back with him?"  By now everyone had frozen and was listening to their conversation.

            "Me an' Pie were gonna but he didn't want us to go that late."

            It took no time at all for the cruel reality to sink in for the newsies.  Another newsie was missing; first Les, then Bumlets, now Specs, who was going to be next.

            "Race, take Brooke back to the house.  Me an' the guys'll search the city and meet with you at the lodging house in two hours.  Don't let her outta the house alone." Spot threw out orders.

            Hotshot glared at him for using her real name but felt strangely numb and allowed Race to drag her back to the mansion.  She broke free of him there and hid herself in her room.  Who the hell was doing this to the newsies and why?  For some reason she didn't doubt that this had something to do with her case.

            A crash made her jump a foot in the air as a sack crashed through the glass of her window.  It landed on the floor and she ran to the window just in time to see a few boys scrambling around the corner of the house.  Race, Rubin, and Rosa all entered the room at the same time, Daniel lagged behind slightly.  

            "What happened?" Rosa asked.

            "Someone threw this through the window."  She picked up the bag and pulled it open.  Inside were a note, a rock, and a few other items.  She pulled out the note and uncurled it.  Mitchell's all-too-familiar handwriting filled the page.

                        -Hotshot

So I hear youse been missing some very important things lately Miss Lynn.  Les, Bumlets, and Specs to be exact.  If you ever want to see them again then I have a feeling you'll do exactly what I tell you.

First, go ahead and tell youse friends where they are, but make sure they know that they can't help.  Tomorrow night come down to the old warehouse in Brooklyn.  Come alone 'cause I'll have guys all over to tell me if you bring anyone.  If you do I'll have to start executin' youse friends, startin wit' the little one, what's his name. Les?  It's gonna be a fight Hotshot, hopefully one to the death.  You win an' I'll let 'em go, if ya don't then they might die, might not.  

Why you might ask.  How many times have you embarrassed me in public?  More than I can count is all I know.  Youse always stealing me position in the newsies, hittin me, etc.  I'se had enough and we'se gonna settle this once and for all.  Tomorrow night at eight.

                                                            -Mitchell

            She had the urge to throw the paper out the window, but instead folded it and pilled the other items out of the bag.  She pilled out Specs' pocket watch and a chain with a cross on it.  "That's Bumlets'." Race reached out and took it.  Hotshot handed him the note as well and reached into her pocket, pulling out the hat Scratch had tossed at her the previous night.  She groaned, recognizing the small gray hat as Les'.

            Hotshot seized Race by the arm, scooping the bag up with the other and saying, "We're going to the lodging house."  Without waiting for anyone to answer she had dragged Racetrack out the door.  The two of them made it to the lodging house in the fastest time either of them had ever made.  "Jack, she yelled running up the stairs.

            The boys were crowded around the bunkroom.   "What?" Jack asked her unenthusiastically.  

Spot caught the spark of anger in her eye and stood, "What happened?"

She shoved the piece of paper into Jack's hands, "Read it out loud, 'cause everyone's gonna find out anyway an' I'd rather not go over it more than I gotta."

He read the note aloud.  The room was full of different reactions.  Dutchy, Pie Eater and David all paled, but some of the Brooklyn newsies just rolled their eyes, believing it was a joke. 

"Hotshot," Spot said, "How are youse fallin' for one a Mitchell's cheap jokes."

"I didn't at first," she spat back, "but along with that note came these."  She pulled Specs' watch and Bumlets' cross out of the bag.  She pulled out Les' hat as well, "Scratch threw this at me the night he disappeared and said somethin' 'bout losing something important.  I'm so sorry Dave, I thought he was talking about the trial."

Only after the items had been confirmed by the victims best friends did Spot speak, "We'se comin'."

"Spot, you can't.  He'll kill them."

"An' if we don't come he'll kill you.  If it ain't him one a his crew will."

"Spot, listen ta me," she yelled in frustration, "I can outsmart all a those guys.  You know it!  And Mitchell's to proud to let anyone other than hisself even touch me."

"She's gotta go on her own, Spot."  They turned to face Rebel, "I know you don't wanna but youse gotta let her go on her own."

Spot didn't argue anymore; it was pointless.  To all the newsies in Brooklyn and Manhattan Rebel's word was law, even higher than Spot's.  

Dutchy looked at Specs' pocket watch and back at Hotshot, "Does this mean you can stay here tonight?"

"I wish," she said truthfully.

"Well, your curfew's in ten minutes…"

"We better go then."

"Brooke, did you talk to Denton?" David asked, "You know in case anything happens to you?"

"If something happens then the trial is over.  If I get them out then it don't affect the trial at all."  She nodded to Jack and Spot, "Gotta go, an' don't you dare tell my brother, Conlon."

"Race, don't let her out of your sight an' I want the two of you here tomorrow." Jack instructed. 

He nodded and the two left.  They sat in Race's room and played poker for hours to keep busy.  She left when Race began nodding off to sleep.  Her room was as dark as it was outside, the broken window left open to let in the cool night air.  She threw the bag of items on her bed and pulled off the black, buttoned up shirt that she wore, leaving only a gray tank top.  As she threw the shirt onto her bad a familiar sound reached her ears.  It was a sound she'd heard often in her stepfather and uncles' houses, as well as in the lodging houses.  Someone was sneaking in through the window.  She spun around to face a tall, muscular boy dressed in dark clothing, and with a swift kick, sent him sailing to the ground.

"I'se ain't tryin' ta hurt ya," he said as she stepped toward him to attack again, "I jus' need ta talk ta youse."

She stopped and turned on a lamp, "What are you doing here, Wick?" she asked Mitchell's crony. 

"I wanna help you."

"Why should I trust you?  Youse with Mitchell's gang."

"Hotshot, Mitchell is crazy.  You gotta listen.  No one else in that place really wants any part of this 'cept him, Scratch and Greedy.  The rest of us just want outta that place.  We wanna help, now would you just listen to me?"

"Alright, talk," she sat down in a nearby chair.

He never moved from his position on the ground as he unfurled his plan.  It had taken the group a few weeks to construct the plan without Mitchell finding out.  They were going to lock Scratch and Greedy in the lodging house and let the other newsies in if they needed to, but they were not going to interfere with what he had planned.  As Wick put it, no one was that stupid.  "I'll be at the door tomorrow," he said before slipping out the window, back into the darkness.  She curled up in bed and fell asleep.

Spot went ballistic when she proposed the plan the next day.  "He's one of Mitchell's men!  How could you possibly trust him?" he yelled.

"Spot do you remember Wick?"

"What does it matter?  He's on of Mitch-"

"Spot, do you remember that kid who came to you beck when we were fifteen, maybe, an' he was all beat up.  Remember you let him stay for a few days and he didn't cause any trouble."

"Yeah," Spot spoke cautiously, not sure what she was getting at.

"An' you remember how after two weeks Mitchell came to claim him and he begged you not to make him leave with Mitchell?"

Spot nodded.

"You made him leave anyway 'cause it was newsie law.  Spot, don't you remember?  Mitchell beat him so badly he couldn't go out selling for two weeks.  He broke one of his legs.  Sure he's supposedly Mitchell's second in command now but the only reason most of 'em don't leave is 'cause they're scared of what Mitchell will do."

"I'm with her," Lockpick said, standing from his seat behind Spot.

"Trust her," Dutchy said at the same time.

After comments from most of the other newsies Spot and Jack had no choice but to allow her to follow Wick's plan.

 It was a long day, which she relaxed for most of; she'd need her strength to fight.  When it was time to go to Brooklyn she, for some reason, did not feel nervous. Several newsies from both Brooklyn and Manhattan followed her to the street where the warehouse was located.  

"We'll wait for Wick here," Racetrack said, "Be careful."

"I will." she promised everyone before turning and continuing the walk herself.

As promised Wick stood at the door.  She looked into his eyes to see if the plan was in action and he nodded slightly.  She took a deep breath as he opened the door and followed him inside.  She followed the boy through a maze of hallways that led to a large door.  Without speaking Wick opened it and motioned her inside.  She stepped through and he closed the door behind her.

The warehouse hadn't been used for some time.  The small somewhat circular room was sparsely lit.  The ground was covered in dirt and boxes were stacked along the walls.  The room was tall.  The second floor also entered it with ladders to climb to the ground.  Hotshot was sure Mitchell was in the room.  She spied a small movement in a dark corner and walked over.

"Mitchell," she greeted.

The room's light grew slightly, but only enough to reveal him.  "Good evening, Hotshot."  He greeted, looking and sounding very smug, "Welcome to my home."  His eyes glittered coldly as he stood and Hotshot felt almost certain that only one of them would leave the room alive.

A/N:  Ah, another chapter another cliffhanger.  I am very happy to announce that this story is almost complete.  Just a few more chapters to go.  I can also announce that four newsies, other than Specs, now have girlfriends for all my stories.  Mush, Dutchy, Jack, and David all have girlfriends, whose names I will post later.  If you are interested in having your character be one of the other boys' girlfriends please e-mail me at Megstar1387@aol.com I need the following information.

  Name: First 'Newsie' Last  
Age: #  
Age when joined newsies: # and year  
Birthday: Month/ day/ year (1882 if you're 17)  
Love interest: (one guy please)  
Close Friends: guys, and whose gf's you're friends with

Best friend: guy, one of their girlfriends or both  
Lives: Pick a lodging house  
Weight: thin/ normal/ heavy  
Height: #'#"  
Hair: color , length, style  
Eyes: color  
How got newsie name: quick explanation or story  
how became a newsie: look at the question and tell 'briefly' how you became a newisie  
Physical: pretty, gorgeous, muscular, tall, shot, etc.  
Personality: sarcastic, tough, shy, cautious, serious, leader, follower, etc.  
Clothing: what you wear daily, pants, tank top, shirt, vest, hat, jewelers, watch, will you wear a skirt or dress, how do you do your hair, etc. Please inc. colors.  
Ethnic stuff: French, Italian, Spanish, Canadian (maybe a religion if you wanna be portrayed as practicing it.)  
Fears: heights, spiders, etc.  
Good at: fighting poker, etc.  
Other: education? read, feed stray cats. Basically any and all weird little quirks.  
  
I'd appreciate any reactions to this.  It's for one of my next few stories.  Reviews would be nice too…    Bye for now.

                                                                        ~Megan~~~


	25. A Fight To End All Fights

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 25

By Megan

OK EVERYONE THIS CHAPTER ONLY HAS SOME GRAMMAR FIXED AND A FEW LITTLE THINGS ADDED.

A/N:  They had a Backstreet Boy open the first season game and the first game ever at Gillette stadium.  I was just there three Fridays ago and this ruins it.  Oh well, Patriots still rock!

**Shout outs:  I figure the reviewers of chapter 23 and 24 deserve some shout-outs!******

**Katie:  On sugar?  If so we need to reduce your sugar intake.  I'm writing more see!**

**Tiger:  Short?  Six pages typed isn't usually considered short but I'll work on makin' 'em longer.  **

**Chachi:  Someone's favorite story.  Wicked cool!  Thanks.**

**Splash:  Specs= everything that is good and holy.  I must agree. And your right Mitchell is kinda evil, but this story would be so boring without him.  And the cliffhangers, I admit I hate it when other people use them, but they're so fun to write.**

**Moon*Star:  See above.  I'm at your command, hard at work on another chapter.**

**Lange:  It's about time I got another review for you, and I'm glad you finally realized the sexiness that is Specs.  You got Spot, don't worry about that.  Congrats on starting college.  Only three years from now and I'll be there.  Too long…  I'll update again soon. Please keep up the reviews.  Hey, and guess what?  I'm actually _nice to Spot in this chapter._**

**Pina:  Long time, no review huh?  This one isn't quite a cliffhanger, but wait, there's more…**

**Katie: I know, Cliffhangers=death.  But they keep you comin' back for more (that's why I use 'em)**

**MC:  Trust me, you're only bad when every single one of your friends will tell you to your face that you're obsessed.  Who's guilty of that?  ::raises hand sheepishly:: Trust me, there's so much more coming.**

**Pretzel:  It's all a puzzle…**

And now for what I know you've all been waiting for…

The Story!!!

            She glared up at him, not wanting to be the first to break the gaze.  He was looking at her with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.  

            "So you came after all," he said, as he broke eye contact and began circling her.  "I didn't think you was actually gonna show."

            "How do I know you haven't killed 'em yet?"  She asked, not trusting him in the least bit.

            With a wave of his hand Mitchell sent two of his newsies scurrying across the room.  A stack of boxes was moved, revealing the three newsies in question.  Specs and Bumlets were noticeably bruised, but Les, thankfully, was barely touched.  Bumlets held the shaking little boy in his arms and Specs sat next to them staring at her.  His arm lay around Bumlets' shoulder.  All three were looking at her with a look of amazement.

            She took a step in their direction but somehow Mitchell got there first.  He sent her spinning to the floor.  She looked up at him as she pulled herself up.  How was she going to beat someone like him; he was at least twice her size.

            "Are you forgetting our deal Hotshot?"  He smirked, "Before you so much as lay a finger on them we fight."

            "You boys alright?" She yelled, he had never said she couldn't talk to them.

            "I'll live," Bumlets shouted.

            "I'm ok," Specs said.  "Les is fine too."  The younger boy nodded and she allowed Mitchell to take back all of her attention.

            "C'mon, Mitchell, just let Les get outta here.  He's just a kid."

            "Not on your life."

            "I don't wanna have ta fight you Mitchell." She told him.

            "I could  just kill the three of them now." He interrupted.

            "But my friends' lives are at stake so I guess that doesn't give me much choice."

            With those words a fight started.  The fight was remembered for as long as there were newsies in New York and as long as there were newsies there was never a greater fight.

The two began to circle each other.  Neither ready to start the fist-to-fist contact quite yet.  There were things that needed to be straightened out first.

"Why do you hate me, Mitchell?" she asked.

"D'ya remember when Spot first introduced ya to Rebel, an' ya hit me.  That's when it started.  And then Spot chose you as second in command.  Youse a goil so even wit' his permission I couldn't a done nuthin' to ya.  But ova the past few years I realized sumthin'."

"And what might that be?"

He paused and smirked evilly.  "Youse a newsie, not a newsgoil.  Dat means I can hit you."  He threw his body forward, behind his powerful fist.  

It was then that she realized what was perhaps her only advantage, speed and agility.  Mitchell was too big to move as quickly as she did.

"An'," he went on as they began circling again, "there's all those times youse embarrassed me in public, the scar."

Hotshot had nearly forgotten.  She looked at his face where a small scar ran across his cheek.  The white line sharply contrasted with his tanned face.  She barely remembered; she'd put it there with a ring at the age of twelve.  The sharp metal had cut across his face when she hit him.  Both Spot and Rebel had told her off for beating up a fellow newsie, _again._

Mitchell used her small flicker of attention to draw the first blood of the battle.  His fist drove forward and propelled it into her jaw.  The force of the impact knocked her to the ground.

Cursing she was back up in seconds.  The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as it pooled in her cheek.  She spat the small amount of blood into his face.

He wiped it off and pulled off his button up shirt to make it easier to fight.  She pulled hers off too, leaving only her tank top on in the cool warehouse.  It would only slow her down and make her easier to beat.  

He was smiling swaggeringly at her and she was very tempted to lash out and knock the look off of his face.  She darted out and struck his right eye squarely with her left hand, attempting to do the same with her right.  He grasped her right hand before it could strike and twisted it behind her.  Through practice she knew how to get out of his grip.  She pushed away after bringing her nails across his face.  

Mitchell yelled out in pain and tried to lash out at her, but she quickly dodged out of reach.  She came back past him, but this time wasn't fast enough to avoid his fist.  Something sharp scraped her cheek.  Her hand flew up to the cut and red liquid was found on her fingers when she took them away.

"What was it that happened to that ring?" Mitchell asked, laughing.

"Rebel threw it into the harbor." she stated, wiping the blood away.  He'd been threatening to take it so no one else got hurt and when she tried to take it back it had dropped into the harbor.  He apologized for weeks but nothing could be done.  Her mother's wedding ring was lost forever at the bottom of the harbor.  Or so she had thought.

Glistening on Mitchell's thin fingers the ring sat.  He'd found it and kept it as bribery, choosing the fight to reveal that he had it.

His grin widened and the older boy looked around at the newsies who were watching from the second floor.  Hotshot took the chance and launched herself at him, bowling the older boy over.  They both crashed into a large wooden crate, which splintered under the weight.  As they retreated back to their respective corners both found themselves covered in scratches.  A large cut sliced across Hotshots left arm.  

She hadn't noticed before the silence that her friends were shouting to her.  The three of them were yelling encouragement and ideas.  As Mitchell reached for her instinct took over.  She let him take hold of her right wrist and let his force flip her over his shoulder, bringing her knee in between his shoulder blades.  He cursed releasing her.

"You little bitch!" he yelled as she danced out of reach.

"Oh, and I suppose you expected me to just stand here and let you kill me," sarcasm dripped off her words.

A piece of broken board flew on her direction, knocking her feet from under her.  She avoided the other pieces, using other crates as shields.

"Come out an' fight!" he shouted once he grew tired of her hide-and-seek."

"How am I supposed to fight you if you get to fight with weapons?" she snapped , crouching behind a stack of boxes.

"You can use weapons too, I just happen to know you don't have any on you."  He plainly told her.

"Oh that's so much help now!" she yelled, reaching for her back pocket where her slingshot was but realizing she'd left it in Manhattan. "I really wish you had my knife right now, Specs!"

She calmly walked from behind the boxes to the open are that was now littered with straw, pieces of boards, blood and footprints.  He met her and they attacked each other.  A set of punches and kicks found both of them on the ground.  Hotshot nursing more cuts, and Mitchell a bloody nose.  Mitchell was up faster and kicked her hard in the stomach before she could rise as well.

The kick made her stiffen and freeze for a moment, during which he kicked her again and again.  She finally jumped up and took hold of a handful of his hair.  She dragged him down by it and brought her knee into his stomach.  

While Mitchell recovered from the pain she stood back, catching her breath and trying to catch a glimpse of the newsies upstairs.  Wick should've had them all up there by now.  It was only then she began to worry that it had actually been a trap.

Mitchell pulled her towards him and tried to twist her arm behind her back enough to break it.  She yelled, twisting repeatedly out of his grip.  She brought one leg behind his left one and helped his feet slide out from under him.  

In seconds he was up and had tackled her to the ground.  She squirmed out of his grip again and climbed a pile of boxes, trying to gain an advantage by height.  She caught Wick's eye and he made a signal that meant there were problems.  

Hotshot groaned.  Problems meant it would take longer for them to get there and she wasn't sure how long she could hold Mitchell off for.  Adrenaline was pumping through her veins but she had no idea how long it would last for.  

She took her time on the boxes to look over both of the fighters.  Mitchell was grinning, even though blood was flowing freely from his nose and the three scratch marks that crossed his cheek.  His right eye was swelled, but not enough that he couldn't open it.  Numerous cuts crisscrossed his arms; the deepest running from his shoulder to halfway to his elbow.

Hotshot realized that she was probably the more injured of the two.  Two long cuts crossed on her left arm.  The other was covered in minute scratches.  She could still taste blood in her mouth, though the bleeding had stopped, but the cut along her cheek was still bleeding freely.  A large bruise covered a large portion of the front of her lower right leg from when a scrap of wood had hit her.  There were surely more injuries that she could not see but she wasn't about to start paying attention to them.

At the same time Mitchell was watching her, only one thought echoing through his deranged mind.  Kill her! Kill her! Something inside him seemed to yell it, driving him on and pumping adrenaline through his veins.  He heard only muffled versions of what his minions were yelling from the platforms above.

Wick stood on the top floor watching the two of them.  Hotshot's eyes showed a little bit of panic, but her stance made him sure she could hold him off just a little longer.  He turned to the man he had once considered a friend and a leader.  Had it been modern day he would have just been sent off to an insane asylum.  He allowed his face to sink a little as he realized it was probably better that she kill him now.  He just didn't want to have to watch it.  He gulped audibly as Mitchell went for a box at the bottom of the stack Hotshot was standing on.

She turned her attention to the fight as Mitchell came back to the boxes.  It all depended on which one he pulled out of the pile.  He chose one and pulled it out but the pile did not topple over as he'd hoped it would.  The next box however brought the tower crashing down.  She managed to jump clear of the catastrophe.  Mitchell pushed boxes aside to get to her and hit her so hard it sent her crashing to the ground.  He picked something up from the ground and swung.  She dodged ton the side and the crowbar hit the floor inches from her head, sending sparks up from the cement surface.

She rolled over and up, causing him to hit the floor again.  When she stood he swung it at her several times.  She either ducked, jumped, of just moved out of his range.  He tripped over a loose board and sent the weapon flying across the floor.  

She jumped at him, letting her fists fall wherever she could land them.  The two of them rolled around on the dirty floor.  Many punches and kicks were landing, putting both of them in considerable amounts of pain, well considerable amounts more pain than they were already in.  During the time they were face to face he was whispering curses and insults.  She just glared defiantly back at him and kept silent.  She was smiling inside because she knew it unnerved him a little.

By quickly straightening her legs sha sent him flying through the air.  He'd almost had her pinned that time.  He skidded after he landed and threw a board at her.  She dodged it easily but didn't miss the look he was giving her.  He wanted to end this soon, _very soon. _

He sent his body sailing toward her with a powerful lunge.  She wanted to just dodge to the side but this needed to end.  A trick Spot had taught her flew forward from the depths of her mind where it had been lost long ago.  It was then that a certain 'newsie instinct' seemed to take over.  She moved enough to the side to avoid him from hitting her dead on.  And took hold of his arm and shirt as he went by.  Using his momentum to help her she swung him around so he was lying on the ground, facing the ceiling.  Her foot was positioned on his neck.  Most people would think that he could easily just throw her off, but anyone who had learned to fight as she had knew all the damage she could do in that position.  She could suffocate him if she held her foot down hard enough; make him die a slow, painful death.  There was also the option of breaking his neck.  She'd seen it done before.  Mitchell knew the dangers and lay still, breathing heavily.

She could kill him now and she knew it, but Hotshot didn't really want to kill him.  She just wanted all the fighting between them to be over.  Wanted to stop him from hurting her friends and keep him far from New York.  She applied more pressure to her foot and leaned down into his face.

"You listen to me, Mitchell," she hissed, "I am sick of fighting with you over something so stupid.  It's over, right now!  You know very well that I could kill you in this position and youse got no one to help you."  She ignored the grin on his face.  "I really hope someone else kills you though.  You cause more problems than you fix." 

 She took a breath and stepped off of his throat.  He sat there looking at her, stunned.

"You have until dawn to get out of New York.  I'm going to make it my personal mission to make sure every newsie in New York knows your face, knows the scabber you are.  And I swear to God, Mitchell, if I ever, _ever, see you around here again…" She let her statement hang and took a deep breath, "__I'll kill you.  Do you understand?"_

Mitchell only nodded and slowly inched back from her.  Hotshot turned to where her friends were sitting.   They looked relieved, scared, and tired all at the same time.  In one motion each of the three pairs of eyes went wide, but Bumlets was the first to gain use of his voice.

"Hotshot, look out!"

Even his warning came to late.  She turned ever so slightly when she felt Mitchell's iron grip on her wrist.  As he spun her around by her left arm she heard a sickening sound, not a crunch of breaking bone but another, more gruesome sound, and her arm went numb below the shoulder.  His right hand came in contact with her left eye, surely leaving an ugly bruise in its wake.  She spun to the floor and hit the cement hard.  When she hit the floor she found she didn't have the strength to get up.  She watched as he crossed the room and rolled over onto her back as he came over. 

 His men were shouting for him to stop but he didn't seem to hear anyone.  He didn't even seem to hear a voice that was loud, and distinctively Spot's coming from the front of the building.  He was deaf to everything save the task he'd been waiting so long to carry out.  He stood over her then, gripping the crowbar like it was his only chance at life.

"It's about time you got what you deserved," he grinned arrogantly, "And I'm just the one to give it to you.  To think, some girl thought she could be a newsie."  He laughed, "May you rot in hell.  You could never have beaten me."  

Everything from that second on seemed to move in slow motion.  He lifted the crowbar above his head and began to bring it down in a blow that would shatter her skull.  Hotshot turned to look over at her friends as Specs' voice rang through her ears.  Her eyes met his and she saw he was holding something.  A small, metal object flew from his hands and skidded over to where she lay.  She knew what it was and nearly cried out.  With expert skill she scooped up her switchblade and pressed the button that would open it.  Mitchell didn't seem to see the blade in time.  With as much strength as she had left Hotshot hurled the blade.  Every single muscle in her body ached with protest but if she put it off for even a second there was no questioning that she would die.  The force behind the throw was powerful, the blade burying itself hilt-deep in Mitchell's chest.  

The crowbar dropped harmlessly to the floor as Mitchell froze, staring at the hilt of a knife, protruding from his chest.  Blood spurted out of him as he reached up to touch it, seeming to not find it real.  As he touched the deep wound everything became real and he let out a yell of agony.  His eyes were wide with horror as he looked at her.  Their eyes met for a brief moment and his body continued to fall forward.  The look in his eyes and what she read in them would stay with her for the rest of her life.  The weight of his large body crumpled over her, blood spilling out of the wound and staining her clothes.  He was dead before he landed; the weight of his body coming down fully on her.

Hotshot used her last surge of adrenaline to push Mitchell's body off of her.  It rolled with a sickening thud and a sort of splash due to the blood that covered the ground. She forced herself to sit up, and edged herself a few feet away from him.  Her body tried to flop back to the ground, exhausted, but Specs was behind her, leaning her against him. 

"Les didn't see that, did he?" she asked, sucking in a few deep breaths.

"No, Bumlets got him to look away.  It's alright."  He pulled her into a more upright position to keep her awake.

She breathed a sigh, not wanting to scar the child at such an early age.  Hotshot had seen plenty of fellow newsies die.  It was the reason Spot was so emotionless and she did not want Les to turn into Spot for any reason.  

"We need to get you to a doctor," Specs said, "Someone needs to look at your arm."  He was looking the rest of her cuts and bruises over to make sure there was o other serious harm done.

"Get in front of me." She told him, repeating the order when he didn't move.  She placed her left hand on his shoulder and ordered him, "Hold my arm there.  Don't let go."

"Hotshot, don't."  He pleaded, refusing to hold her hand against him.  He knew what she was going to do and had heard that it was a very painful procedure.

"Specs," she said calmly, "Hold my hand against your chest or I'll use one of the beams."

He took tight hold of her arm; determine not to let go.

Hotshot tensed for the pain that would surely explode in her arm as she straitened it and pushed as hard as she could, forcing her shoulder back into the socket.  She didn't care if she was supposed to be one of the bravest newsies in New York.  She screamed in pain, and let Specs pull her into his arms again.  She dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and held her breath, willing the pain to stop.  It exploded in her arm and more seemed to be released over time.  

When Spot and the others entered the room, following Wick the pain and her arm had lessened a little.  She sat in Specs' arms as Bumlets joined them, holding a very distraught Les.  Spot was the first one to make it to her side.  He gave her a glance before yelling to a few of the other newsies.  Snoddy, Wiser, and Roman came over to her, cleaning the cuts as carefully as possible.  Spot walked over to the motionless body.  "My God, I can't believe you killed him," he said it more to himself than to her.   He stood over the body of the man he'd once considered an ally, but now considered an enemy of the worst sort.  Though he didn't like the fact that one newsie had killed another he believed justice had been served in this case.

Spot used his foot to flip over the body and stared at it in horror.  Of course no one except him, his brother, and Hotshot could tell.  He looked over the beaten newsie, trying to gather what had happened.  Hotshot was watching him from where she sat in front of Specs.  As the three 'doctors' of the newsies backed away Spot pulled the knife free from the corpse.  Blood seeped out, staining his clothing and the floor a deep crimson, and a few turned away in disgust.  Many of them were staring at her, unable to believe that this girl had killed one of the most feared non-newsies.  Spot wiped the blade clean on a small rag and handed it to Specs.  The boy promptly closed it and put it in his pocket.

It was then that the second wave of newsies came in.  It included Dutchy, Pie Eater, and David.  David paled at the sight of the cadaver on the floor and looked around frantically for his younger brother.

"Bumlets' got 'im Dave," Hotshot called.

At the same time David spotted the dark haired boy and ran over to him taking the smaller boy in his arms.  Les was crying a little and seemed eager to get to his brother.  His hands secured themselves in the fabric of David's shirt and didn't seem to want to release him.  Pie Eater was right behind David and hugged his best friend.  Bumlets slouched against him a bit, tired and injured from the whole ordeal.  Dutchy slid to the ground next to Specs and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.  

"You alright?" he asked.

Specs only nodded.

Spot turned to Hotshot, whom all the newsies were now staring at.  Before he could speak she did.

"I know you wanna know what happened Spot, but I can't do it right now.  I swear I'll tell you before court starts again next week but not now, not now."  She stared right into his eyes as she spoke.  There were only a dozen or so people who had seen the whole thing and knew what really happened.  She wanted to leave it that way, at least until tomorrow.

He nodded and yelled orders for most of the newsies to return to Manhattan, this now included Wick and his comrades.  Specs, Dutchy, Spot, Wick, Jack, Rebel, and Roman were staying to set up the room.  Hotshot had insisted on staying with them, telling Race to run to the mansion to tell Rosa she wouldn't be home until the next day.

The seven boys cleaned up the room the best they could and hid the body in a pile of boxes, not that anyone would care that Mitchell died, but the chance was still there.  Before they put him there Hotshot slid her mother's wedding ring off of his fingers and into her pocket.  Hotshot refused the help offered on the way back to Manhattan and walked on her own.  Halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge she couldn't walk anymore and her legs collapsed under her.  She cried out and sank against the wall.  

Spot leaned down in front of her not quite meeting her eyes, "Do you want someone to carry you?"

"No," she said forcefully knowing very well there was no chance he'd listen to her and still wanting to take care of herself as always.  She tried to pull herself up but had difficulties and dropped back to the ground, hitting the pavement hard with her already bruised fists.  Some of the bruises broke, letting some blood seep onto the pavement.   

Spot took her hands in his and made her look at him.  "Let someone help you for once," he said.  He called to Specs, who was waiting with the others a few yards down the walkway, just out of earshot of their quiet conversation.

Hotshot glared at him as Specs began walking toward them.

"Please, Brooke."  He looked at her with concern in his eyes as Specs came and stood by them.

She nodded and Spot whispered to Specs.  The taller newsie leaned down, sliding one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, and picked her up.  She leaned her head against his chest, "Thanks Specs."

"No problem." He began walking to catch up with the rest of the group.  They all looked at her for a moment but looks from either Spot, her, or both made them continue on their way.  

More weird looks were sent her way when the group entered the bunkroom.  Almost everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her, even the younger boys, Les, Snipeshooter, and Boots raised an eyebrow.  None of them thought they would ever see someone carrying Hotshot unless she had passed out.  They all know she never wanted anyone to help her.  But now, seeing Specs carry her in, and not knowing what happened in Brooklyn kept them from responding.  Even Racetrack, who _always had a comment on the tip of his tongue when he saw the two of them together in any intimate way, was silent.  The room remained silent as Specs placed her in her bunk.  The silence continued as she curled up under the thin blanket.  Only after they were sure she was asleep did the newsies talk in hushed whispers about what had happened._

All the while one of them sat on his bunk, watching her closely.  Even when Dutchy tried to talk to him Specs just stayed silent, shaking his head and clenching his fists.  He gave his bed to one of the newer newsies that night and then sat on the end of her bunk, his legs stretched out next to her and his back against the frame.  He finally allowed himself to fall into a restless sleep.

A/N: Wow, this chapter is finally done.  I'm thinking there will only be about five more chapters, but then who knows.  Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter.  New reviewers, Yay!  Other new reviewers are always appreciated.  This chapter took me a while to write and the other ones left might to.  Bear with me I'm trying but, School Ugh!!!  More soon, I promise.

Also any more girlfriend profiled are greatly appreciated.  I've got ten, but that means ten newsies are still free…

                                                                        Luv ya lots

                                                                                    ~Megan~~~ 

AGAIN I'M SORRY THAT I'M JUST REPOSTING THIS BUT I WANTED MY FRIEND TO EDIT IT AND I WANTED TO GET IT UP SO MUCH I JUST… YOU GET THE IDEA.  NEW CHAPTER SOON..          ~Megan~~~            


	26. Revelations

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 26

By Megan

            A/N:  Oh my God, I can't believe the reviews I got for the last chapter.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and to those of you who think I won't have chapters up as much I'm still gonna try hard to get at least one chapter up a week.  But ya hafta know it's hard 'cause I have guard practice every Tuesday, Wednesday and either Thursday or Friday, then I work on weekends.  But I am working hard on this story.  I promise.

Katie:  Thanks so much.

Moon*Star:  More is here, finally, and coming faster, I promise.

Pina: It sux, yep that sums it up but I have to go to school **sticks pins into voodoo doll of principal** school and work take time from my wonderful computer.

Chachi: Trying to e-mail you I've just been busy.  Dave, Specs, Dutchy, Spot, Skittery, Jack, Mush, Kid Blink, Race, and Snoddy are taken.  So far everyone else is free.

Splash:  Of course I killed Mitchell.  It's like an unwritten rule that I've gotta kill off a person a story.  

Lange: Thank you so much for your review.  I think it was the longest one I've ever had.  Both your stories by the way I read and loved.  I'm so glad you have learned of the sexiness that is Specs, and realized I don't hate Spot.  I'm really trying to be nicer to him.  I'd be honored to be on your fav. Lists.  Again, thanks for that review.  I was sorta depressed and it made my day.

*          *          *

            Kloppman approached the bunkroom around midnight to check on the boys.  He, of course, knew about the fight, and hadn't tried to stop them because he knew he couldn't.  He had, however, expected the bunkroom to be full of noise and activity when they got back.  That had not been the case.  They'd brought back the missing newsies, including Specs, who had carried Hotshot in later than the others.  That was one thing he never expected to see.  The fact that Hotshot let _anyone carry her amazed him.  When the group of seven had gone upstairs he'd counted down in his head, but the talking never started.  The most he'd heard had been a yell or two that had, immediately, been silenced by a million whispers of complaint. _

            He was in the room now, looking over them.  Not only his own boys and Brooklyn's, but new ones as well.  They occupied every bed and there were two boys in many of them.  He looked over those who had been taken, and thankfully, returned.  Les was asleep in his brother's arms.  Thankfully, there wasn't even a bruise on him.  Bumlets was the sole owner of one of the top bunks.  He, unlike Les, had fought and had bruises and cuts to show for it.  There was one long cut across his jaw that was going to leave a scar.  He'd probably make up some story to go with it too.  Specs took him a while to find.  He finally found him sitting on Hotshot's bunk.  The old man shook his head finding he'd fallen asleep against the frame.  He was going to be sore the next morning, but he'd get over it quick enough.  

Other than the snores of a few the room was completely silent and every newsie was asleep.  That was a first.  He turned and retreated from the room, deciding, against his better judgment, to wait until the next day to find out what had happened.

*          *          *

            The first thing she realized in the morning was the pain in her arm.  Then she realized that she was very uncomfortable.  The room was completely lit and completely silent.  Hotshot groaned to herself, she knew the guys meant well letting her sleep in, but really wanted to get herself up and selling as mush as possible.

            Hotshot pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite the vigorous protest of her many aches and pains.  She nearly jumped when she found Specs sitting on the end of her bed.  He was sitting up against the frame with his feet stretched out along the edge of the bed.  Hotshot reached out and shook his shoulder, "Specs, wake up."

            He jumped in surprise, probably at the sound of her voice as well as being woken up, and fell onto the floor with a resounding smack.

            Hotshot leaned forward, putting a hand over her mouth to try to contain her laughter.  Her task became even harder as he groaned from his position on the floor.  A laugh escaped her lips and fits of it made her shoulders shake.

            "It wasn't finny," Specs complained, trying to be serious as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

            She looked at him and just laughed harder.  His glasses sat crookedly on his face and hair was disheveled.  "What would I do without you, Specs?"

            "Not a hell of a lot," a loud, sarcastic voice interrupted from the doorway.

            "Race," she said, glancing down at Specs' pocket watch, "What are you doin' back.  It ain't even ten yet."

            He looked at her like she had just sprouted another head, "Are ya crazy?  No one went sellin' taday."

            She groaned as Specs pulled himself into a standing position, rubbing a hand wearily through his hair.  "Why on earth not?" he asked

            "They wanna hear what happened," Hotshot slid out of her bed and trekked to the bathroom, where she splashed her face with cold water to wake herself up.  After that she went down to the common room of sorts where the fireplace, as well as some chairs and tables were always set up.  She could hear them all talking as she stood in front of the closed door.

            "Did it ever occur to any a you that maybe she doesn't wanna talk about what happened?"  Bumlets shouted at them as she slid the door open a crack.  Everyone was focusing their attention on him so much they didn't notice.

            "Why wouldn't she?" Royal yelled, "She killed the most feared newsie in New York, well except for Spot!"

            "'Cause she didn't wanna hafta kill 'im," Specs interrupted, "It's gonna be hard for her to tell about how she killed someone!"

            It was then that a few of them noticed her standing inside the now fully opened doors.  

"Heya killa!" Scruff yelled as she reached the center of the room, preparing to take a seat.  

She felt her face growing red with anger and turned on him.  She grabbed the older boy by the front of his shirt and got up into his face, "Don't you ever call me that again, Scruff."

"Take it easy Hotshot," Spot peeled her grip off of Scruffs shirt.

"I didn't wanna kill  'im Spot!" she turned to her old leader, "All I wanted was for him to get out of New York and not come back.  I got him pinned and told him to leave but he used it to trick me.  If Specs hadn't a had my knife he woulda killed me.  Wait a minute, Specs, I thought you gave my knife to one of your friends?"

Specs nodded, "I did, Bumlets."  

"Like I was sayin' Spot I tried to let him live but he just wouldn't give up…"

"Hotshot," Spot stopped her from saying anymore, "It's alright that you killed him.  It was in self defense, ya hear me, if you hadn't fought him he woulda killed the three of them."  He pointed to where Les, Bumlets, and Specs were sitting.  "He was obsessed with beating youse Shot," he used the nickname only he called her, and even he hadn't called her that in a long time, "He was insane and woulda tried to kill you again an' again until he died.  You got that?"

She was beginning to realize what Spot meant, and realizing that it was true.  She nodded, "Thanks Spottie."

He bristled and a few of his newsies snickered.  A glare from him silenced them quick enough.  "So Hotshot, you wanna tell us what happened."

She sighed, but was smiling inwardly; boys will be boys after all.  Most of them gathered closely around as she started her story, with help from those that were there.  Unlike many of the other newsies would have she didn't change any parts of her story; instead keeping it one hundred percent true.

When she was released from the boys' questions she took a walk to another part of Manhattan, to an inevitable place.  Denton's apartment.  He answered a few seconds after she knocked.  "Oh, Brooke, I was wondering when you w- My God, what happened to you?"  He'd started the conversation off normally and changed mid-way through when he noticed the black eye, bruises, and bandages.

"We need to talk Denton.  Can I come in?"

He immediately let her in and the two of them sat down at the table.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Hotshot to start speaking.  "I killed a man Denton," she finally started.

"You what?" He didn't sound surprised, but at the same time he did.

"Do you remember Mitchell?"

Denton nodded.

"Well he's been set on fighting me for a while.  He kidnapped Les, then Bumlets, then Specs.  One of his guys delivered me some of their stuff and a note from him.  It said that I had to meet him at some warehouse or he'd kill them.  We'd fight to the death.  If he won he'd kill them and me, an' if I won we could leave.  His newsies wanted out of his power so they helped me by letting Spot and some of the others in after the fight started.  We still had to fight though.  I pinned him and told him to get out of New York or I'd kill him.  When I got up he dislocated my left shoulder and pinned me.  He was gonna hit me over the head with a crowbar, but Specs threw me my knife…" She sighed, "…And I killed him."

Denton had sat very quietly through her entire story, "Other injuries?"

"Some scratches and stuff.  They might leave a few scars but I'll live.  Specs helped me with my arm."

Denton winced, knowing what she meant, and shuddered at the thought.  "The police have been having some trouble with him over the past several years, basically since Spot became leader."

"I don't understand."

"James Mitchell killed several people after Spot kicked him out of the Brooklyn group.  He injured plenty of others and has committed a number of other crimes.  Every time he eludes the police.  He was under a strict protection contract when he appeared for your trial.  If someone left an anonymous tip with the police and they found his body it would just save them a room in the state penitentiary for however long he would have lived.  You pretty much just took care of him earlier."  

She nodded in understanding.

Denton picked up the telephone and dialed a number, "Hello, Officer Davis.  This is Brian Denton of the New York Sun.  I have just received a tip from one of my clients that James Mitchell was killed.  Yes, the one that committed all those crimes.  He is in a warehouse in Brooklyn."  He continued with specific directions.  "The name of the person who told me, I'm sorry, but that information is confidential.  Thank you.  Goodbye."  He hung up the phone.

Hotshot sat there grinning; "I take it you've done that before."

"Several times," he said, " Now, my guess is you haven't gone to see Rosa yet."

"I'm as good as gone," she said.  He let her out the front door, reminding her to be in court on Monday.  

Rosa almost had a heart attack when she saw Hotshot.  Since Hotshot thought she owed it to her for not coming back the night before she let Rosa fuss over her and took the treatment silently.  Daniel did not get back until after her worst wounds had been covered in new bandages.  He couldn't see them under her buttoned shirt.  

"What happened to you?" he asked seeing her black eye.

"Fight," she explained simply.

The other two came barreling in the door after Daniel had gone upstairs and the situated themselves in one of the many rooms.  

Rosa found the three of them playing poker up in her room a few hours later and she only glanced disapprovingly at the pile in the middle of their game.  "You'll lose all you money." She warned.

Hotshot shrugged, "Race's already done that."  Getting a glare from Rosa she said, "Just one more game…"

The older woman nodded and left the room.  True to their word they played one more game and turned in for the night.  Race retreated to his room happily shoving his winnings into his pockets.

"Dave'll be back in a day or two," Specs said, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on a chair.  "He's really grateful that you fought Mitchell and got Les out.  You shoulda seen him, he acts so annoyed when Les is around but he really cares about him."

"Yeah, I know."  She nodded, "Pie Eater and Dutchy probably reacted just as bad as he did.  Dutchy went ten times paler than he already is when I told him you hadn't come back here, if that's possible."

"You know mw and Bumlets are real grateful too.  If you hadn't gotten us outta there I think he really woulda killed us."  He sat down next to her and she looked up to meet his eye.

"I _know he woulda killed you.  That's just the way he is, an' what'd ya expect me to do, not come."_

"I wasn't really sure."

"Well then let me explain it to ya so ya don't make the mistake again, I don't give up on anyone.  There are some newsies in Brooklyn that I can't stand but I woulda done the same for them."

Everyone went selling the next day, and they met at the Horace Greeley statue early as ever.  With the usual singing and dancing through the streets.  There were completely different styles exhibited by Brooklyn and Manhattan, which made Hotshot think; after this was over was she going back to Brooklyn or staying in Manhattan.  She banished the thought from her mind and continued on through the gates, taking place in line with the others.  When she reached the window a few snickers could be heard from the Delancy's.

"So," Oscar leaned forward, "You get soaked again?"

"Sure," she said leaning forward, "But you should see the otha guy."

"How could he possibly look worse than you?" Morris asked.

She leaned closer to the bars and they did the same.  She whispered only loudly enough for them to hear, "He's dead and buried."  With that she took the papers Weasel had put on the counter for her and left.  Leaving the two boys standing there wondering if she was joking or not.  

Everyone that had been standing behind her was laughing, able to guess what she had said by the look on the Delancy's faces.  They joked about it on their way through the line.  

Hotshot sold with Bumlets, Pie Eater, and Snoddy that day.  Bumlets and Pie Eater did flips and other acrobatic tricks to draw a crowd and Snoddy and Hotshot yelled headlines.  The group wandered to the edge of Manhattan and worked their way back to Tibby's.  By the time they got their all their papers had been sold and the restaurant was already crowded.  Luckily, they had a lot of the same friends.  Specs, Dutchy, and Skittery had saved seats for them.

"So how's Blink?" Pie Eater asked Skittery.

Skittery looked up, smiling, "He was up an' walkin' an' ever'thin' when I went yesterday.  A course the Doctas don' want him walking around yet, but that one that took over for him says he's doin' real good."

"We should go visit him this aftanoon," Hotshot said, hitting Bumlets' arm and nodding to Specs, "I ain't seen him since before Les an' I'm guessin' neither a you has either."

"You'se gonna hafta tell 'im about the fight," Bumlets laughed, "He loves those good fight stories."

Skittery shook his head, with a knowing grin on his face, "He's already been told.  One a the fellas stopped by when I was there and, uhhh, told him the whole story."

"Which one a the fellas?" Hotshot asked.

Skittery pretended he hadn't heard her and focused on his plate.

"Skittery," her tone was warning, "Who?"

"Racetrack."

She groaned, now there were so many more things she was going to have to tell.  She leaned her head over the back of her chair, "Why, outta everyone in Manhattan, does Race pick my life to make up?"

"It's 'cause youse jus' such an interestin' person."  The Italian midget had appeared behind her.  "An' I didn't exaggerate it, jus' told him what you told us yestaday."

At least half the table came back at him, "Yeah right."

Race just shook his head, "Youse bums don' gotta believe me but I did."  He put a hand on Snoddy's shoulder, "Didja hear about the fun Hotshot 'ere had wit' youse bruddahs heads this morning?"

"No," he looked interested, "What'd ya do?"

Hotshot looked at him confused, "To youse bruddahs, I dunno.  I didn't even know you had bruddahs.  The only people I messed wit' this mornin' were the Delancy's."

Dutchy snorted into his drink as the others all started to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Hotshot," Dutchy said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and gesturing toward Snoddy, "I'd like yas ta meet Richard 'Snoddy' Delancy."

"What?!" Snoddy, youse related to those scabs?"

"Unfortunately," he downed the rest of his drink in a gulp, "Our parent's died so we lived wit' Uncle Weasel, but I wasn't like them so they kicked me out and I ended up at the lodgin' house.  At first I didn't tell nobody, but it leaked eventually."

"Oy," Skittery coughed, "That was a long day."

Snoddy groaned and nodded in agreement, "It's a long story."

She held up a hand, "I'll take your word for it."  With that she, Bumlets, Specs, and Dutchy left on their way to the hospital.

Kid Blink was dressed semi-normally when they got there; at least he wasn't in the hospital gowns anymore.  Mush was losing pitifully to him in a game of poker.  "Well, if it ain't da hero." Mush said, glad for something to end the game.

"What's up Mush?" Dutchy greeted, "How are ye Kid?"

Kid Blink gave both Specs and Bumlets brotherly hugs, "I'm doin' better.  Glad the t'ree a youse is alright."  He wrapped an arm around Hotshot's waist, "I'se glad you killed that guy, Mitchell.  I neva liked him anyway."

She laughed about it for the first time, "Kid Blink you neva met him."

"True," he admitted, "but from what I'se heard from Race I really didn't like him all that much."

"Nobody did."  Bumlets left it at that.

"So you ready for tomorrow?" Specs asked the room.  Dutchy raised an eyebrow at him.  "Me, Hotshot and Kid Blink testify tomorrow." He explained to Dutchy.

"It's gonna be awful but it means it's over," Hotshot said, "The rest of the week is just Judge Monahan deciding everything.  On Thursday my dad's having a party out in Brooklyn, and Friday.  Well Friday, I find out what happens."

Specs saw the doubt in her eyes, "Don' worry, the judge is gonna grant you emancipation.  That way you'll get ta hang out wit' bums like us as long as you want."

"Hey," Kid Blink complained, " I ain't no bum."

"Well then what are you?" Bumlets asked.

He smiled at Specs, "I'se an antagonist."

Specs laughed, "Definitely."

"What about me?" Mush asked, "I ain't a bum either?"

"Nah, Mush, youse just naïve." Hotshot said.

Mush smiled and spoke up, "Ya hear that fellas, I'se naïve."

Specs opened his mouth to tell Mush what it meant but Hotshot shushed him, "Let it go, Specs.  He'll find out eventually."

That night she lay up on the roof, staring up at the stars and completely ignoring Race's cries from inside.  He was losing, again, and he obviously wasn't too pleased about it.  She just smiled to herself.

*          *          *

Racetrack sat on the floor of Hotshots room, a large pile being swept over to Royal's side of the circle.  "C'mon man, youse killin' me." He complained.   

They'd been able to invite a few of the newsies to her house to play poker until curfew.  Other than himself, and Royal, Swinger, Ace, Dutchy, Jack, and Spot were seated in the circle with Race.  David sat with a few of them watching the game and chatting with his friends.  Specs was sitting on the seat by the window, occasionally poking his head outside to look for Hotshot.  

"I'se out for the next game," Race said, "Need some time ta recuperate."  He looked at Royal and Ace who had beaten him all night.  Sure he'd had a few good games but they were winning the majority.  He took a seat next to Specs after shoving Dave into his spot in the circle.  "I was talking ta Pickpocket the otha day…"

Specs looked at him, "Ummm, ok Race."

Racetrack sighed, "He and most of Spot's other boys think she's moving back to Brooklyn when this whole thing is over."

Specs looked up, "She's going back to Brooklyn?"

"Well she said yes, but he also said it took 'er a while to answer and she looked kinda uncertain."

"So she's not going back to Brooklyn?"

"That's why I thought I should talk ta you, Specs.  She never said she wanted to go back to Brooklyn-"

"I know that's why…"

Racetrack held up a hand to keep him from talking, somehow the others were not paying attention to their conversation, "But she never said she planned on staying here either."

At that thought Specs good spirits dropped.  Of course this didn't show, but Race was looking him in the eye and could tell.

"I mean maybe she is planning to stay here but she ain't told anyone yet.  I'se only tellin' you 'cause I know you still care about her, then for all I know you two might not get together again, I just thought you'd like to know.  Maybe you should just go out there and talked to her."  He motioned toward the roof and Specs nodded.

"Go play poker, Race," He put some of his change into Race's hand, "Pay me back later."  

            He slid out the window and carefully climbed up to the flat area of the roof.  She was stretched out staring up at the sky.  She didn't notice him until he spoke, "Hey."

*          *          *

            She looked to her left at the sound of a voice and found Specs sitting next to her.  "What's up?"

            "Me and Race were talkin' down in your room.  He took a break from the poker game?"

            "What'd Race take a break from poker to talk about?"

            "You, actually."

She rolled onto her side and looked at him.  She could tell from his voice that there was something wrong.  She could tell if something was wrong with Spot so she could easily read Specs like a book, "What is it Specs?"

He sighed, "After this is all over where are you gonna stay.  You'll be able to go back to Brooklyn, or stay in the lodging house again.  All spot's guys are sayin' you're goin' back wit' 'em." 

"You want me to stay here?"

"Well, yeah, but what were you planning on doing?"

"At this moment I have no idea.   Pickpocket, Swinger, Roman an' some of the other's asked a while ago and I said I was goin' back jus' to make 'em happy.  That's what I think about a lot.  I really don't know.  I'se just tryin' to get through the trial first."

He nodded, "Alright, so what're ya thinkin' about now?"

 He assumed her position from before he'd interrupted her.  She stretched out next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.  "Absolutely nothing."  The two of them fell silent, watching the stars.

Spot sat on the edge of the roof.  He had come up to talk to Hotshot about the same thing and heard the entire conversation.  He shook his head; even a blind man could tell that Specs still had strong feelings for Hotshot.  He grinned when he thought of what Hotshot had asked him that afternoon.  She'd asked him if he thought Specs still liked her.  As much as Spot wanted her back he'd quickly said yes, knowing it was true and that it was what she wanted.  Now, seeing them together he almost regretted it.  Even though he was seen as a bit of a loner he had grown used to having Brooke around and hadn't thought they'd break up.  He was ready to give her up, but thought now of trying to find a new girlfriend.

"Hey, youse two," he called, "unless you'se like the thought of getting soaked by Race and Dutchy I suggest you come on down pretty soon.

"Comin'." They hollered back in unison.  The three of them slid back in through the window, only to hear complaints from two of their friends who had been busily filling a bucket with water.

As Hotshot lay alone in her room later that night she thought hard about the Brooklyn vs. Manhattan decision she would have to face very soon.  That would have to wait, she realized, focusing on a spot on the ceiling.  She had to think about tomorrow first.  It was time to squash Pulitzer.

I know, I know, it's about time I've had another chapter.  I have to say I've been working really hard on this and other stuff.  Football games are a killer and I've been working more lately.  Sophomore year stinks too.  But then look at this and see what two days of being sick can accomplish.

There really aren't many chapters left in this but I promise they will be somewhat long.  My few story ideas are growing very quickly, but I won't start typing them 'til this is done.  Again I want to thank those of you that reviewed the last chapter.  I hope you forgive me for taking so long to put this up and review this chapter too.  I have the morning off from work this Saturday so that means more time to type.

I also might change my pen name to Hotshot, because I like it and it's so much more original than Megan.  Just be prepared to maybe see that change.  Take care.  New chapter coming up pronto.

Also, if you want to see more of Hotshot you can find her in 'Shade of Tenair's' new story "Once Upon a Time Was a Back Beat"  There've been like 2-3 chapters with her and I absolutely love Shade's ideas.

                                                                                                ~Megan~~~

                                                                                                            ~Hotshot~~~      


	27. Certain Arguments

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 27

By Megan

            Race searched the rooms upstairs.  It was true, Rosa had told him half an hour ago to wake Hotshot up.  Maybe he'd ignored the command just a little too long.  He ducked through each of the three bedrooms where she could usually be found.  She hadn't been in her room so he continued his search through first Specs' then the one he shared with David.  She wasn't in any of them.  She'd never wandered downstairs, so where was she?

He leaned against the door jam and sighed in frustration.  

            "Race?" The voice behind him made him jump as he spun around to find the object of his search standing behind him.

            "Hotshot, where you been.  I'se been lookin' all ova for you?"

            "Race, I'se been downstairs for the past ten minutes."  She looked at him like he was an idiot, "Now, c'mon, Denton's waiting out front."

            Race stared after her open-mouthed and then threw up his hands in frustration. Following her out to the waiting coach.

            All the boys at the courthouse were in a large cluster, which Hotshot pushed herself through.  Kid Blink was sitting in a wheelchair joking with the guys.  Occasionally he'd glance back and flirt with the young nurse who held the back of his chair.

            Hotshot stationed herself at the center of the circle and tapped her foot while crossing her arms over her chest.  He finally noticed her a few minutes later.

            "Hey, Hotshot, how's it rollin'?"

            She laughed, unwilling to let loose the comment that had been on the tip of her tongue for the past several minutes.  "You're lucky you'se sick or I'd have a comment for you."  She spit in her palm and held it out.

            Much to the nurse's dismay Kid Blink did the same and shook hands with her.  "I see you'se in your typical Brooklynite mood."

            "Always, so how are you?"

            "Getting out in a week or two and I'se got permission to come to you'se party thing and the rest of the court stuff.  Ain't coughed up blood in two days."

            "Good."

            Denton yelled from the doorway for them to start coming in.  To Blinks horror Hotshot took hold of the back of his chair.  

            "Hotshot!" he complained, "I had a perfectly good opportunity to flirt with her!"  He continued to whine until they reached to door and asked so what're me an' Specsie tellin' the judge."

            "The truth," she said clearly.

            "Hotshot," Specs said, "Some a the stuff we know about you ain't so great. Are you sure about that?"

            "Because a wise person once told me the truth is the only thing that will help you out of _any situation."  Without allowing room for further comment she wheeled Blink into the crowded courtroom._

            Both sides of the courtroom seemed tense that morning since those who were testifying could make or break the case.  Though Edwards and the Pulitzers maintained their I'm-better-than-you snobbish composure you could read in their faces that they were nervous. 

            "Who told you that?" Specs asked her as they sat down.

            "My mother."

            While Pulitzer and the rest of them smirked, thinking they had the case in the bag Hotshot gave a cold glare to the single table on the other side of the room.  There were a few comments from the newsies about how 'if looks could kill'.  Race even started his own little eulogy as though he was at a funeral.  Even as her stepfather looked over at her she locked gazes with him.  She didn't have the smirk on her face like she had the day she'd dumped all that water on Spot, instead her mouth was set in a line.  It was almost as scary as seeing her when she had a crazy idea, at least as threatening.

            Denton was questioning them fist.  He wheeled Kid Blinks wheelchair up to the stand and began his questioning.

            "You were the first of the boys to meet Miss Lynn, right Kid?"

            "Yeah," he said, "I was sick so we played poker and waited for the rest of them to get back."

            "So, how well did you get to know her?"

            "I'd consider her a good friend.  I kissed her once but there was nothing else between us.  We hung out at Tibby's and sold together a few times.  That's about it."

            "So did you trust her?"

            "Unless she was sellin' yeah.  She made up some pretty believable headlines since she moved here.  Almost convinced Jack an' Race to buy papes offa her a few times.  The rest of the time she didn't have no reason ta lie to us.  Sure, she didn't come out and tell us everything but she'd tell you if you asked her."

            "What about respect?"

            "Always.  I been abused like her.  My dad hit me and my little sister and brother so I know how it is.  I repect anyone whose been through it.  And then all the other crap she's put up with, this whole trial and all."

            "What do you mean by that?

            "Well, she lived in Brooklyn for four years without anyone looking for her and all of a sudden Pulitzer finds this need to find her and bring her home.  He made way too big a deal out of it so there's gotta be something in it for him."

            Hotshot sat smiling in her seat.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Pulitzer squirming uncomfortably in his seat.  That's one of the things she loved about Kid Blink; he said what he felt no matter who it would offend or what kind of panic would follow.  Now he was making Pulitzer sweat.

            "Then," he went on, "There's the fact that she's gonna be eighteen in six months.  The way this trial's been goin' she might be eighteen before it's over."

            Thank you, Kid Blink." Denton smiled as he took his seat.

            "You seem to get sick an awful lot." Mr. Edwards commented.

            "Not really."

            "You were sick when she arrived and you had Tuberculosis, I'd say you're sick a lot."

            "Well I don't.  Mr. Edwards when she got there I was getting over a cold that had gone through the entire lodging house.  Everyone else was out for a week while I was out for three days.  Only reason Jack gave me an extra day off was because I never get sick so I never take a day off."

            "Why then would you say you don't get sick easily?"

            "Tolerance.  When I was little my day would lock me an' my little siblings out in a closed off fire escape five stories up.  Most of the time I gave them my shirt to keep warm.  That's why I was sick so much when I was a kid.  I guess I built up a tolerance to it over the years. And you can't really say anything about the Tuberculosis.  I got it and ignored everythin'.  If Hotshot hadn't told 'em what it was I'd probably be dead instead a here talkin' ta you fine people taday."

            And a charmer, he was a charmer to.  Hotshot had seen him work crowds selling and with the ladies at Tibby's and Irving Hall.

            "Have you ever been in trouble with the law, Mr Parker?"

            "Not since the strike Sir."

            "And before the strike?"

            "A few small things on my record but nuthin' big."

            "So you'd say you're criminal."

            "No, I'd say I'se a kid who has ta work ta keep hisself alive.  Every kid here has stolen at least once.  It's necessary for survival out there."

            "That is all." He waved a hand up and turned back to his seat.  An arrogant smirk was on his face again.  He looked over at Hotshot's table where she sat there glaring back at him.

            "Matthew Edwards." The judge called him up next.  Specs gave Hotshot's shoulder a squeeze as he passed her.  She glanced at his father on the other side of the room.  He was sitting haughtily in his seat.  

            "Specs, Jack chose you to bring Hotshot around and show her the ropes?"

            "Yeah."

            "Any idea why?"

            "'Cause I'm supposed to be smarter than most of the other guys.  Jack put her with me because he knew I was least likely to bring he somewhere where she'd get in trouble or get caught.  That and he didn't expect anything to happen between us."     

            "Did you want to sell with her?"

            "Not at first.  She was a girl so I thought she'd slow me down. But she kept up and we got to be friends."

            "And after that?"

            "We dated for a little but it didn't go past kissing."

            "I've heard there was a time where you didn't like her?"

            "It wasn't that I didn't like her; I just had something against some of the Brooklyn newsies for a long time.  Jack never told me she was from Brooklyn, but she saved my butt in a fight.  She held off two bullies with a slingshot and an empty threat of a pocket full of ammunition."

            "So you respect her?"

            "Always.  If Spot wasn't leader of Brooklyn, I expect that she'd be.  She has all the kinds of qualities that make her stick out and demand respect.  I know she ain't gonna tell on anyone an' she'll fight to save some of her own.  Just some of the stuff she's done in the time since I met her."

            "Do you trust her?"

            Specs smiled, "With my life.  Seriously, I trust her with anything.  She can do anything and I have never heard her lie to anyone."

            "What about the detectives and police?"

            "She only lied to them to stay away from her uncle.  She won't lie to her friends."

            Mr. Edwards approached the judge as he stood to start his questioning.  I would just like it on the record that this boy is my son; some of his questions may come from his home life." With barely a glance at Specs the judge nodded for him to proceed.

            "Matthew," he began, making the name sound repulsive, "Please state for the court how long ago you left your home and why?"

            "I left seven years ago when I was ten.  And why?  I left because my father beat me."

            Edwards didn't even flinch, "And how did you act in that home?"

            "Like a normal kid.  I got in trouble sometimes but most of the time I was pretty good."

            "So you left when you were ten and since then haven't been in contact with your family at all.  You must truly hate them if you never even wrote a letter to tell them you were alright."

            "You know that's not true.  Of course I cared about my family.  I still do, but if I had written a letter I would have been dragged home.  I'd rather stay in this life than go home to abuse."

            "Alright then, away from the topic of you family.  How much money do you have saved from being a newsie?"

            "I'm not sure exactly.  Don't count it that often.  Ten, maybe twenty dollars."

            "Why do you have so much more that your friends?  Steal it maybe?"

            "Never.  They all spend their money on girls.  I've only had a few girlfriends and not much else to spend extra money on."

            "Have you ever been in trouble with the law?"

            "On a few occasions."

            "Do you care to be more specific?"

            "The strike, for one.  That and a misunderstanding between my friends, Dutchy and Bumlets, and a few police officers.  I try to stay out of trouble, but if one of my friends is gonna take a fall for sumthin' he didn't do I'm not gonna let 'em arrest him." Specs' voice rose and his face began to turn red from anger.

            "What about Miss Lynn?"

            "What about her?" He was suddenly tense.

            "The two of you dated correct."

            "That's right."

            "I know you claim that the two of you did nothing past kissing but Daniel Taylor claims he found you in her bedroom asleep on several occasions." Edwards raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, similar to that Racetrack often used.

            "Yeah, I stayed in there," Specs admitted, "but it wasn't for the reason you're suggesting.  Daniel had a habit of coming to her room around the time she was going to bed and harassing her.  I stayed with her to keep him from coming back because she didn't want to get into a fight with her."

            "I'm sure.  Will you two be getting together again after the trial is over?"

            "It's her decision, not mine."

            "I'm done with this witness Your Honor."

            Specs walked back to his seat glaring at his father's back.  Hotshot turned around as he took his seat behind her.  "I'm fine," he said, "Now get up there so we can get as far from this place as possible." He sank back into the bench and seemed to be attacked from Dutchy on one side and Kid Blink on the other.

            Hotshot was happy to finally be testifying.  She'd been waiting since the beginning of the trial for her turn.  It was going to be one of the most terrifying and most enjoyable moments of the trial.  Everything she said would be inspected and twisted around to be used against her later.  But then, she would be able to finally tell what had really happened when she lived with her stepfather and uncle.  She walked up to the stand and sat down.  It would be harder to do this in front of people but the fact that she'd had to control over fifty boys in Brooklyn helped a little.

            "Miss Lynn," Hotshot winced even though Denton was required to call her that, "How long have you been working as a newsie?"

            "First time I ran away was when I was seven.  I moved into the Brooklyn lodging house permanently when I was thirteen."

            "Why did you become a newsie?"

            "To get out of my house.  My mother married Mr. Pulitzer after my dad got sent to jail.  He loved Aaron and Salina but Andres and I were older and caused trouble because we were smart.  Andres always spoke his mind and I spoke Spanish all the time.  He'd ground us both and eventually Andres started bringing me when he ran away.  Our dad used to tell us stories about the newsies so that's where we went."

            "What happened when you were returned to the house?"

            "Jonathan would treat us nicely in front of our mother but the minute she was gone he'd beat Andres with the whip.  First time I ran away he just slapped my but the punishments got worse and he started whipping me too.  People have seen the scars on my back."

            Denton had already handed in the pictures of the scars as evidence. "When was the last time he whipped you Miss Lynn?"

            "When the court made me visit him a few weeks ago.  Being a newsie gave me a smart mouth and I mouthed off to him so he beat me."

            "When you lived with his brother was he any better?"

            "Joe wouldn't hit me 'cause he knew I could go to the cops on him.  He gave me just about as much freedom, which was as little as possible, and grounded me for speaking in Spanish."

            "Why would he ground you for that?"

            "He had a Spanish maid.  He said it made me sound like an uneducated servant, which I always took as an insult.  My mother moved here from Spain and made sure I learned the language."

            "Did Mr. Pulitzer do anything else?"

            "He arranged a marriage.  He knew for a fact that I hated Daniel Taylor but didn't care because the Taylor's family business would make him richer than he already is and let me live the 'fine' life."

            "You still don't want to marry Daniel Taylor?"

            "Or anyone else in higher society right now.  My dad had the same job as I did when he was my age and he was one of the most successful lawyers in New York by the time he was twenty-four.  Then he owned the firm when he was twenty-eight and expanded it."

            "So you'd rather stay as a newsie until you're older and decide to get a real job?"

            "Yes."

            "What about your friends in Brooklyn and Manhattan?"

            "They're the best friends any one could ever ask for."

            "So you trust them?  Even the ones who have been arrested?"

            "These are newsies we're talking about.  The cops don't care whether they did anything or not.  They throw them in the Refuge if they suspect they did something.  And as far as trust goes I trust every single newsie in here.  None of them told the cops where I was when I was hiding and they all helped out during the case.  Only time I ever tune what they say out is when we're selling or playing Poker."

            "What exactly are your plans if you get emancipation?"

            "I'll keep workin' as a newsie as honestly as possible and get a job when I get too old to do this anymore."

            "Thank you Brooke," Denton nodded to her and sat down.

            "How many times have you been in the Refuge?" Edwards began his interview with a potentially damaging question.

            "None." She grinned.

            "Well most of your other friends seem to claim that they were there during the strike."

            "Sir, I stayed in Brooklyn during the strike.  It was too close to Pulitzer and Spot and I agreed it would be better if I stayed home with the younger boys.  The only day I went was the day it ended and there was too big a crowd to pick anyone out then."

            "Is it true that you've fought with and injured some of the other newsies?"

            "I'm the only girl Mr. Edwards.  If girls don't show the guys they can fight they'll get taken advantage of."

            "How many newsies did you date during the time you lived with them?" 

            "Only two.  I dated Spot for a few years in Brooklyn and Specs for a while when I came up to Manhattan.  Both are in the past."

            "I'm sure.  So would you mind explaining why Matthew was in your room at the mansion every night?"

            "He was in my room because Daniel thought it was his right to come harass me with his stories about my parents in the middle of the night.  Specs kept me from killing him and kept him from coming back."

            "Many of the boys who testified said that you were passed around among the boys?"

            "Well I wasn't.  The boys who said that lie."

            "Have you ever stolen anything?"

            "Not other than food, and only when I haven't eaten for more than two days."

            "What about fights?  You look pretty beat up, what happened in the last fight you were in?  Who was the other guy?"

            "I was in a fight against James Mitchell Friday," she stated plainly and without emotion, "He tried to kill my friends and I."

            "And where is this young man now."

            "He's dead Mr. Edwards and this really has nothing to do with my trial so I'd appreciate it if you'd get back to that."

            Edwards seemed too shocked to answer but quickly came up with another question, "How can you prove that your stepfather hit you?"

            "The scars on me and my brother's backs and four newsies who helped clean me up."

            "Would you run away again if you were not granted emancipation?"

            She thought for a moment, "In a heartbeat."

            "Thank you Miss Lynn, please step down."

            Edwards looked tired as he sank back into his chair and began to put together his closing statement.  He spent ten minutes going on about her having no proof and how each of the newsies was a nuisance to society and worthless.

            Denton stood proudly on his side of the room with a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Your Honor Brooke Lynn was raised on her father's stories about his days as a Brooklyn newsie.  After his arrest her mother married a man who refused to let her speak a tongue that her mother had taught her at a young age.  There is also proof that this man beat her between the ages of seven and twelve.  This man locked her brother in the attic of a house for five years and sought revenge on her by beating her in the middle of this trial.  Another man promised a young businessman her hand in marriage when she was thirteen.  Not only does Miss Lynn not want to marry him but she also does not know him.

            "When she was a young girl, yes, she did run away from home countless time to stay with a large group of older boys that may be the kind that will ruin a young woman of society.  But it happened and there is no way to reverse what she has learned from them.  From these boys Miss Lynn has learned more than she would have learned in the censored environment that her uncle's home provided.  Over the past ten years she has had the kind of relationships that young women of higher social rank won't have.  She has worked with them, had romantic interests with some of them, and faced terrible battles with others.

              "While most families of her father's rank would not approve of the way Miss Lynn dresses or talks she knows that when she is older she will go back to that way of life and has done so as far as speaking goes for this session in court.  They may not like the occupation she chose for her first job but what can we expect.  This girl was raised on the stories of Brooklyn newsies; her own father was the leader for several years.  She has learned more about hard work, trust and friendship than lawyers of her father's standard will learn in a lifetime.  I truly believe that if you keep her housed with the Pulitzers you will not only ultimately kill her, but deprive this city of one of it's best lawyers, or writers, teachers, or God knows what.  I know I wouldn't want to be the person that had to bear that on my shoulders.  Thank you for your time Judge Monahan."

            The judge closed his file; "This court will take a long recess while I deliberate the outcome and sentences.  We will reconvene at noon on Friday." 

            "I'll pick you up at the lodging house at six Wednesday," her father told her, "Go out and have fun with your friends."

            Racetrack and Andres had spread news of the 'ball' her father was having on Thursday.  All of the boys were invited and now babbling about it.  

            "So who're you inviting for girls?" Kid Blink asked.  The nurse was helping him into a carriage to go back to the hospital but he'd been promised he could go.

            "Sarah's friends and a bunch of newsgoils she knows.  Specs' mother and sisters, Rosa and some of them, Medda's crew is coming to entertain, and my dad's business friends and their families."

            "Rich kids. Fun!" Spot was tapping his hands together with a smirk; similar to Hotshot's on his face.

            "Bye Kid," they called as his carriage rolled off.  Then they all clustered around.

            "What do you wanna do taday Hots?" Jack stole Spots nickname, "It's up to you."

            "Please! Tibby's.  Then the afternoon at Irving or the lodging house."

            That was enough of a plan for the newsies.  The large group set off to Tibby's and spent the afternoon in downtown Manhattan.

            Hotshot was exhausted when they got back to the lodging house that night.  She threw Spot's stuff off her bunk and climbed in.  She opened one eye to see most of the other newsies were doing the same.  Fixing Spot with a glare she spoke, "Any water, you die."  He held up his hands in defeat as he, Lockpick, and Royal moved their stuff and everyone squished into bunks.  

            Hotshot rolled over as Race started a Poker game with those who didn't want to sleep.  Tomorrow should be fun.  Tomorrow she was meeting the people Sarah called 'the goils.'  'Should be lots of fun she thought' before going to sleep, 'A dozen versions of Spot, just with PMS.'

            (A/N:) I know I haven't updated in forever but my computer deleted this just when I got it typed the first time and right now I have pneumonia so I've barely been able to do anything for a while.  This all got typed basically today and yesterday because I couldn't take another movie.  

            I know the ending of this chapter was iffy but it was the best I could do.  I promise I'm trying, and the next few chapters are going to be great.  Maybe not fast seeing as make up work is a killer but they're coming.

            No offense to those who reviewed but I got crap for reviews last time and I would love more this time.  Also go read anything by Stage, Shade of Temair, and misprint who are absolutely awesome.  Shade was wicked cool and put poor dysfunctional Hotshot and Specs in one of her stories.

            Last note: Last call for girlfriends. Jack, Spot, Dave, Race, Mush, Kid Blink, Specs, Dutchy, Snoddy, Jake, and Skittery are taken. Tiger, I'm sorry but you didn't send me the required info and lost your holdings on the guys you wanted.  Send me the info and a new guy if you want, and Glare I need a guy for you.  Anyone else I would especially love a girl for Pie Eater, Bumlets, and Crutchy.  

            Hope you enjoyed the chapter and got the name change.  Leave you reviews. Thanks!!!         

                                                                                    ~Hotshot~~~


	28. Hey Ladies!

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 28

By Hotshot

            Waking up the next morning was hell.  The boys had seemingly agreed the day before that she had to be up the same time as them.  It wasn't entirely bad though.  It was the beginning of two days where she could disappear off the face of the earth and no one would know.  The judge had given her free reign of her time for the few days where he needed to make his decision.

            She was woken up by two Brooklyn newsies falling out of the bunk above her and landing on the floor with two loud thuds, one of them hitting the edge of her bunk first.  "Roman," she named the one that had nearly landed on her bed, "There aren't any more of you up there that are gonna fall on me if I get up are there?"

            "Nope," he yawned.

            She stood and was thrown back to the ground when a newsie from the next bunk over fell and landed on her.  "Swinger, get offa me!" she shoved the older boy off and looked around for other potential attackers.  

            She quickly ran a brush through her hair and washed her face.  The increased number of guys made it difficult to get into the washroom in the morning.  She made her way toward the door, and the quickest exit from the building but there seemed to be plenty of people getting in her way. 

            "So Hotshot," Skittery blocked her way, flanked by Dutchy, Snoddy and Jake, "The goils at this party on Thursday.  Ya think ya could set us up wit' some of them."

            She rolled her eyes, "I'll invite 'em but you'se gotta set yourselves up.  And trust me the rich girls aren't what you're looking for."  With that she shoved past him and slipped out the door.  The sooner she got out the sooner she'd get away from similar questions from the other boys.

            About halfway between the lodging house and the Jacob's she ran into David and Les and yelled out in greeting.  "Hey fellas!  So Mouth how was your first night home?"

            "Fine," he said, "But it feels good getting' back to work.  Too bad you ain't joinin' us taday.  Where are you an' Sarah goin' anyway?"

            "There's a girls lodging house right near the Brooklyn Bridge.  She's got some friends to introduce me to.  I figure it would be nice to invite some girl newsies to the party on Thursday."

            "What, you don't wanna invite Hummingbird and her cronies."

            She laughed, "I'd sooner pull out all my hair.  You met any of them?  From what I hear Sarah's known them for a while.  They sell the Sun I think."

            "I met a few of them.  They're slightly crazy but ok."

            "Good, I'll catch up with you an' the guys later."  With a nod she passed them and continued to the Jacobs' building where Sarah was waiting on the front steps.

            The entire way to the girls lodging house they gossiped about the Manhattan and Brooklyn guys.  Sarah even admitted that she thought Tiner was cute.  Hotshot laughed at the fact that Tiner; one of Mitchell's ex-newsies had said the same about her.  "What about you and Jack?" 

            "What, a girl can't have a backup?"

            "I don't."

"You aren't dating anyone."

"Well when I was dating Spot and I didn't.  Come to think of it I didn't with Specs either."

            "That doesn't mean you don't think the other guys are cute."

            "Hell no, some of 'em are very cute?"

            The two laughed and Sarah began to list whom she thought each of the girls liked.  When they reached the lodging house girls were pouring out the front door so they climbed the fire escape to the third floor.  While the other floors had been void of girls the room they entered was crowded with about a dozen girls of various ages and styles.  A few yelled greetings, though all were gathered around a small Poker game.  As one girl with long blonde hair won she only smirked as the others threw in their cards. 

Sarah laughing caught everyone's attention, "You four will have to play Hotshot later.  Some new competition for ya."

"How 'bout you introduce us then?"  One girl sad glaring at the newcomer.

"I told you I was brining her.  You guys this is Hotshot, the one who lived in Brooklyn and the Manhattan lodging house."

"The one in all the papes for the last month?" asked a girl who reminded Hotshot very much of Racetrack.

"Yeah, I guess that'd be me," Hotshot nodded, "Sarah, why don't you introduce me so I'm not completely lost."

"Are we sellin' today?" Sarah asked, dropping partially to a New York accent.

"Maybe this afternoon…"

Sarah nodded, "Then everyone sit and you can introduce yourselves."  Following her advice the girls settled in a circle, taking various seats on bunks, chairs and the floor.

"I'm Chiara," the first girl said.  She was on the short side and exotic looking with dark brown hair and eyes, "It's Italian for Star so I never got a newsie name, I'se fourteen."

"I'se Splash, an' I'm sixteen," the next girl started.  She was of medium height but being thin made her look taller.  She had medium brown hair and deep brown eyes.  She pulled back her right sleeve showing off a scar, "I got the name 'cause I made some big splashing scene after getting' bit by a bull shark in Pennsylvania."

"Tigerlily," a girl with light red hair and green eyes introduced herself, "No one remembers where the name came from."

"Mouse," the next girl said.  She was the one who had won the poker game.  She had long blonde hair, which she was busy twisting into buns, and blue eyes.  "I'm almost seventeen.  My parents died in a fire and the bulls used to call me Street Mouse."  The girl was quiet and on the short side.  Hotshot knew she was perfect for one of the guys but couldn't think of which one.

"I'm Shade, or the Shadow Cat, whichever you prefer. I'm fifteen, almost sixteen."  The girl who spoke sat in the shadow of a bunk.  She was short and scrawny, reminding Hotshot a little of Spot.  She even had his smirk plastered on her face.  She was pale but had almost black hair and deep brown eyes. "And the names a long story, to make it short, I'm a pickpocket, I ditch the bulls."  Definitely like Spot, mixed with Race maybe.

"Sweets, or Kaboom, depends on my mood," She had big brown eyes and dirty blonde hair with copper streaks and bangs.  "I'm sixteen.  Most of the time I'm really sweet but I have a tiny tendency to blow up when I get mad."

"Tiny? That's the understatement of the year." The next girls hair was dark and hung in a French braid that reached to her waist.  Her eyes were almost black and her glare almost rivaled Spot's. Hotshot nodded when the glare landed on her.  "I'm Glare, for obvious reasons, turned sixteen back in August."

"Canada, I just turned eighteen."  The next girl had short brown hair with natural copper highlights and sparking hazel eyes.  "I lived with my great aunt in Toronto for five years and ran away when I moved down here.  My uncle was the most cold and indifferent man in New Yo-"

"Biggest exaggeration of the year." Glare mused.

Canada swatted at the younger girl good-naturedly.

"Laze, sixteen," It was the girl who reminded Hotshot of Race.  She had layered brown hair and pale brown eyes.  She looked like the girls Kid Blink and Mush usually talked about at the hospital.  "It's short for lazy, because _these people_ think I have a tendency to be lazy."  Definitely like Racetrack, sarcasm to the max.

"Random, I'm seventeen," The next girl was tall with short chestnut brown hair and green eyes.  "Some people say I make random comments. Where's my cards…" she drifted off topic.

"Dodger, I just turned sixteen," the last girl said.  She was tall with raven black hair cut just below her ears and emerald green eyes.  "Name came up 'cause I got out of some big fight without a scratch."

"I say you owe us some more about you." Glare commented.

"Ok, I'm seventeen," Hotshot said.  "When I first got to Brooklyn Rebel, the old leader said I was overconfident and Spottie called me Hotshot.  Unfortunately I ended up dating the guy… but that's over."

"So you girls feel like coming to a little party in Brooklyn on Thursday," Hotshot jumped to the point.  

The girls looked at her a little strangely, not trusting her much.

"Aww, don' make me beg.  There's gonna be a bunch a rich goils there an' I need some normal people there.  Ain't no way I'm invitin' Hummin'boid and that group.  Newsies from Brooklyn an' Manhattan I promise, plus the rich guys to mess wit'."

As if by insulting the lower newsgirls broke some walls all the other girls laughed and accepted.  The gossip and card games started.  By the time they went out to walk to the distribution center for the afternoon edition Hotshot was already plotting to set some of them up.  Shade and Sarah were working on getting outfits from Irving Hall, where they worked.

            She sold papers with them for a few hours, noticing they had different techniques that the guys did.  While Sarah and the girls tried to convince her to stay at the lodging house for a few more hours after she had to turn them down, she needed to get back to the guys lodging house.

            Even though she got back late the bunkroom was almost empty.  There were a few groups playing cards and Race chasing Snipeshooter around the room swearing angrily in Italian.

            "Where is everyone?" She asked Spot, "An' what'd Snipeshooter do this time?"

            "Race's cigar, what else." He folded from the game with Jack, "All the boys except Royal, Pickpocket, Roman, Swinger, Wick, Spitfire, and Tiner went back to Brooklyn.  A bunch of the guys are still at Tibby's." 

            "Less people need to share beds then?"

            "Snitch an' Itey, Snipa an' Boots, and two Brooklyn boys hafta share a bunk until you leave."

            "Well, I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience," she said sarcastically, turning back to watch Race chase the younger newsie around. 

The younger newsie wasn't as practiced in the bunkroom so while he dodged around bunks Race jumped through them.  He ran and hid behind Hotshot and Spot with a pleading help-me look in his eyes.

"Cigar," Spot put out his hand as Race screeched to a halt in front of them.  Snipeshooter reluctantly handed over his prize, which Spot gave back to Race.  "Maybe if you'se good one of the boys'll buy you one for Christmas."  

Race collapsed on an empty bunk, the cigar clamped firmly between his teeth.  As soon as everyone had stopped paying attention it was right back in the cup on his table.

New bunks had been set up when the Brooklynites left.  Bumlets and Specs switched bunks so Bumlets was over Hotshot and Specs was under Skittery, diagonally across from her.  It ended up that none of the Brooklyn boys had to share a bunk because Kid Blink still wasn't back. 

Kloppman had to wake everyone up the next morning seeing as they'd all stayed up so late the night before.  It was a mad dash for the washroom for everyone to be ready.  As soon as everyone had washed up there seemed to be a tidal wave of boys flowing out the front door and through the streets.  They met with the boys from other lodging houses at the square and meshed into a sort of line when Weasel let them in.

Usual comments were thrown as the newsies passed Weasel.  The man was red with anger and frustration by the time Hotshot reached him.  "Well, well, well, if it ain't little miss trouble herself." He snapped irritably. 

"Heya Wease.  How ya been? How's da family?" She peered through the bars as Oscar and Maurice brought over a new load of papers for the newsies.  She backed away, "Ugh!  Ugly as ever I see."

"What can I do ta get rid a you?" he snapped at her.

She slammed down two quarters, "Hundred papes an' you'll be rid a me for a few days."

"Gladly," he shoved the papers under the bars at her.

"Later dim wits." She called to the Delancy's as she walked down the ramp.  The next few boys in line laughed at her antics.

Since Mush was busy visiting Kid Blink again she took his advice for a selling spot and wandered down Bottle Alley.  The place was full of people selling various items out of the backs of carts and off of little stands.  There were several languages spoken around her and she yelled headlines in both English and Spanish.

A voice yelling in French announced a different approach on the same story she was trying to work, and doing it better.  The newsie was surrounded by a swarm of people as he switched from French to Dutch, to German, then Italian.  Hotshot made her way through the swarm to find Bumlets working the crowd.  She began selling her papers along with him copying his headlines.  The two worked their way down the crowded road selling papers.  They were almost done when they reached the end and Bumlets started to walk back the way they had come, trying to translate the headlines he'd used for Hotshot.  She yelled the headlines in Spanish, attracting a few customers that Bumlets had been unable to get.

As they reached the end near the main road Hotshot spoke, "I take it you sell 'round here a lot."

"Guess so, Used to live her wit' me muddah so I picked up a lot of languages and know some of the people."   

"Cheater." She accused.

"Hey, you got Spanish.  That's one of the languages I didn't learn." He handed one man a paper and spoke rapidly to him in Portuguese. The man smiled and said something back, handing Bumlets two apples.  Bumlets handed one to Hotshot, "Ya wanna head over ta Tibby's."

She nodded taking a bite and giving her last paper to an elderly man for free.  They strolled down to the tiny restaurant, which was full of newsies by then.  She dropped into a chair at a full table.

"So what's this 'ball' that youse dad's planning for tomorrow?" Jake asked.

"It's stupid," Hotshot muttered.

"Indulge us," Jack prompted, "What's it about."

"Well, when most girls of high class are like thirteen or fourteen their parents have this thing called a debutante ball where their parents introduce them into society.  I think the whole thing is sorta medieval but my dad still wants to do it so I'se up for it.  You guys unfortunately, hafta dress nice."

Race stood, "Whatcha talkin' 'bout.  I'se always dressed nice."

Hotshot put her head in her hands to keep from laughing out loud.  As usual Race was wearing three different patterns of plaid.

"You invited some newsgoils, right?" Snoddy prodded.

"Girls lodgin' house near the Brooklyn Bridge.  About a dozen of 'em."

Hotshot had a quick lunch and wandered out of the crowded restaurant.  With only a few hours left before her father was picking her up she wasn't sure what she should do.  She bought fifty papers and wandered to central park.  Young, rich couples were almost all that could be found there in the afternoon.  Most of them frowned down on her, the girls especially.  Even though she was of a lower stature guys still paid attention to her, especially since she was able to look like a girl now.

She walked along the paths yelling headlines and trying to sell to anyone she passed.  Those who didn't buy papers she sometimes followed around until they did.  She walked through the park for about the fifth time with barely a dozen papers left.  No one was buying no matter how many exciting headlines she yelled.

"Looks like you need some new material."

She turned to the familiar voice with a smirk on her face, "What's it ta you?"  As he walked toward her she stepped backwards along the path.

"I thought you might like a selling partner, it being your last day and all." 

She laughed and turned around beginning to walk away.  Specs dashed after her, wrapping an arm around her waist, "C'mon."

"Who says it's my last day.  The way you say it makes it sound like you thought I was going back with the Pulitzers."  She spoke with a cool tone and had a look to match, "You don't think I'm gonna go back there do you?"

"You never know Hotshot," he muttered, biting his lip as the two of them began to walk again.  "I mean, I don' want you ta get sent back wit' 'em, but if you listen as an outsider ta what was said in that trial…  The judge could lean either way.  An' if not," he tried to lighten the mood, "it's youse last day before this is all over."

"You couldn't have waited until Friday morning to tell me this, could you?" She gave him a look that boasted that she wasn't going to lose.

"My, my, my, whatta we got here?" The often-annoying voice rose from behind them.  

Hotshot glanced back and groaned, "A moments peace; is that too much to ask?"  As she shook her head several other newsies came up to join them.  Race, Spot, Pickpocket, Roman, Wick, Jack, and Dutchy all gathered around the duo.  Jack stole her extra papers and began handing them out to everyone.  She just rolled her eyes and mumbled a brief thanks.  Specs again, wrapped an arm around her waist in a friendly manner, and kicked Race when he began to comment.

The boys yelled a few headlines and sold the papers off quickly to a few young ladies with their boyfriends at the park.  Just like the guys were attracted to newsgirls the ladies seem particularly attracted to the boys (::looks around blankly:: can't imagine why?).

Hotshot smiled as she saw a certain group of people a little ways down the path.  Hummingbird and her entourage were a few yards ahead of them.  She nodded to Hummingbird as they passed, enjoying the jealous looks in the girl's eye.  None of the guys had so much as said hello to her because they were too busy talking about plans for the next night.  Hotshot was very tempted to throw a mocking comment at the girl but Spot whispered in her ear.

"They're comin' tomorrow night, so I wouldn't."

"Who invited them?"

"I told your dad to.  How else are you gonna show that girl up?  If you insult her now she might not come."

"Oh, yeah, that would be such a tragedy." With a roll of her eyes she began to race back to the lodging house.

The bunkroom was crowded with people, back from selling early.  The boys came in after her, most of them arguing with Race over some racing form.  Hotshot glanced at her watch, realizing with regret that her father was picking her up in an hour.  The others dispersed to separate parts of the room as she started packing.  The very few things that she was taking with her were scattered over her bunk easily fit into a small bag.  The rest was staying there until Friday, at least.  Using the key hanging around her neck she began to scratch her name into the underside of the bunk above hers.  It was tradition; dozens of other names were there as well.  Bumlets.  Ambition. Waves.  And plenty of others she did or did not recognize.

"Hotshot!" Kloppman called, coming up the stairs.  She was only done with the first three letters and rolled off the bunk quickly so she wouldn't be caught.  "Your brother is downstairs waiting for you." 

"Comin'!" she called back.  As she stood several newsies came over and hugged her goodbye.  The younger ones first and then some of the older boys.  She was only supposed to be gone for a few days but if court went badly it might be a while before they saw her again.  She hugged Snipeshooter, Boots, Roman, Swinger, Pickpocket, Crutchy, Skittery, Snoddy, Pie Eater, Bumlets, and Dutchy.  Race patted her on the back and told her to have fun.  She spit-shook with Jack and David.  The last thing she did was search the room for Specs and Spot.

As she ambled down the stairs she found her brother sitting on the front desk, dressed full out like a newsie.  He was telling Spot about an encounter earlier that day I Brooklyn.  

"So this newsie, he's maybe Hotshot's age," he explained, "Stops me an' he's like 'Whatta ya think youse doin'.  This is Brooklyn.  Spot's newsies are the only ones allowed to sell here.  Beat it!' So I tells this kid, I _do_ know Spot Conlon, known him since he was seven or eight years old."

"He woulda had to be real gullible to believe that just 'cause you said it," Spot drawled.  

"Well he didn't. Wit' this real hoity-toity attitude he says 'Yeah right, I bet you can't name any of the odda Brooklyn newsies.' Which is a good question 'cause youse the only one that's really widely known.  So I leaned down a little to be face to face with him and said, Well if Hotshot hears how bad you been treatin' her bruddah, or Rebel hears how you been treatin' his best friend I suggest you get outta here pretty quick.

The kids jaw dropped.  Ta hear I was Rebel's best friend-"

"Yeah, you were," Spot admitted

"Anyway to hear I knew the old leader and Hotshot.  I mean plenty of scabs know her name but most of them are too stupid to know she's a girl even wit' the papers.  The kid was gone in a matter a seconds."

"I'd appreciate it in the future if you would refrain from using me to make yourself feel so powerful around them." Hotshot leaned against the railing with her arms crossed over her chest, "Where's dad?"

"Home, I wanted to find Spot so I told him I'd come get you.  'Sides, the man just got out of prison so he'd probably get lost in Manhattan."

"A newsie can't get lost in New York." She and Spot said together.  Both laughed.

Blackjack rolled his eyes, "You're both nuts."

She and Spot spit-shook and she walked out with him.  Blackjack was just about to get into the carriage ahead of her when she spotted Specs.  He yelled after her when she started over to him but she ignored him.

"Have fun," Specs said glancing over her shoulder and mock saluting her fed up brother.  "Teach him how to play cards again."

"Oh, he still knows.  Beat Ace and Royal last weekend," she grinned, "You'll be there tomorrow night, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for The World." He laughed.  "So you carve youse name in?"

"Part of it.  I'll finish it when I get back."

"Are you always this overconfident?"

"Hotshot had to come form somewhere, didn't it."  She sighed, "I'll see you."

"Yeah, see ya." He kissed her once on the forehead before retreating to where Dutchy and Bumlets were waiting on the steps.  

Hotshot walked over to the carriage and climbed in after her bored stiff brother.  As they pulled away from the lodging house she head the familiar noise that signaled three newsies jumping onto the back of the coach.  She almost laughed.  She launched into telling her brother about the fight.  He seemed interested but had a certain overprotective look on his face.  "Don't you dare tell Dad." She warned.

"Brooke, youse gonna be as famous as Spot, at least."

She shrugged noticing they were nearing the hospital, "What's the driver's name?"

"Louis."

"Hey Louis," she yelled, "Stop in front of the hospital for a minute."

The young man pulled the coach to a stop in front of the large building and the newsies jumped off the back.

"Thanks," Specs said, coming to the window.

"Hey, tell Kid I found the perfect girl for him."

"Really, think you could find one for me?" Specs rose an eyebrow grinning.

"I might be able to fins somebody."  She leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips.  He stepped back off the step as the carriage pulled away and waved.

The rest of the carriage ride was silent.  It was an ending in a way, of her freedom.  If the Pulitzer's won she'd never get back to the lodging house.  If she won it wouldn't be the same as before.  She wouldn't have to hide that she was a girl, or stay out of trouble.  But with her father and brother around some freedoms were long gone.

She took in the familiarity of Brooklyn as they crossed the bridge.  Sure, she'd gone there for the fight, but she hadn't even glanced at her surroundings that day, just let her feet take her to where she needed to be.  Before that she hadn't been there in what seemed like forever; she could barely remember the last time she'd sold there.  They passed several newsies still out selling.  She wanted to wave to those she knew but pulled herself back into the carriage instead.  How good would it feel to sell there again?  Manhattan was wonderful, but this was Brooklyn; she'd spent most of her life there.  She could feel her brother watching her and was sure he knew exactly what she was thinking.

The carriage pulled up in front of her father's house.  For the past five years it had been a house of protection when she looked at it.  They all hid there from the bulls from time to time.  Now it had the same eerily intimidating demeanor as Pulitzer's mansion.  It's full expression on wealth and power seemed to roll over her like a wave.

"It took you long enough to get here." Her father joked as they entered.  

Seeing his smiling face made all Hotshots nervousness and minuscule fears dissolved.

"We woulda been back sooner but Miss Popularity ova here had ta say goodbye to every newsie in the city 'fore we left."  Andres made fun of her.

"Oh, really, an' you jus' had ta tell Spot that story," she let herself stay in street dialogue seeing her father didn't lecture her brother about it.  Her mother had been highly troubled by their use of street slang.  "It's good to see you again." She hugged her father.

It was less than an hour later that the three of them sat down to dinner.  Their father had yet to hire anyone to work and probably wouldn't considering he liked to do things himself.  He brought out a small dinner.  As they ate they discussed the next night's guests.  Her father listed off business associates whose children were coming.  "What about the newsies you invited?"

"Well there are a lot of them.  They'll probably outnumber-"

"I figured."

"Well for girls there's Hummingbird and her friends.  I really can't stand them but Spot invited them.  Then there's these girls Sarah Jacobs introduced me to and Sarah."

"Aren't you inviting some of the gentlemen too?"

"Let's see, there's Spot and Brooklyn.  They know their way around the house really well and I trust most of 'em with me life.  The guys I lodged with in Manhattan are coming.  They're really good guys.  You know Dutchy…"

"Alex, yes."

"They're all just as good as he is.  The little kids you have to watch, but the older boys, well except Race, are very well behaved."

Her brother coughed into his napkin.

"Isn't there a certain one of these boys, Specs I believe?" 

"Andres!" she turned to her brother for telling.

"What!?" he asked innocently.

"Well Brooke?"

"We were together and broke up 'fore the trial.  He's me best friend an' I dunno, we thought about getting back together."  She suddenly looked up, "What am I wearing?"

Her father smiled secretively and her brother returned the look, "I believe Miss Valdez and Miss Larkson are arranging that.  Don't worry though.  Go have fun tomorrow and be back here by one.  The party starts at six."

"Alright," Andres nodded, "Fun in Brooklyn!"

With a glance Hotshot nodded in agreement.  So much trouble to get into.  She played what seemed like endless card games with her father and brother after dinner, all the while thinking about her friends.

The next morning she was out the door before her brother was even awake.  The Brooklyn boys were surprised to see her standing at the gates when they arrived.  Most looked so bleary eyed that she couldn't help but comment, "You betta get back ta getting' up 'fore Spot comes back.  Trust me, swimmin' in the harbor ain't fun."

"Mornin' Leary." She greeted the Brooklyn distributor.  As she carried her papers out the gates Scorpion caught up with her.

"So you got some ladies coming tonight?" he asked.

"Always." She mumbled glancing down at the headlines and scanning multiple articles.  "Jail overrun by prisoners!  Several escapes!"  Her yelling told about three boys who escaped from the refuge.

The hundred papers were sold by noon and she met the boys at a local pub.  Grabbing a quick sandwich she chatted with the ones she hadn't seen in the past few months.  By the time she reached home she was almost fifteen minutes late.

Her father scolded her as she came into the living room.  Medda and Rosa were both seated in chairs, smiling.  Hotshot just shrugged off the comment and went upstairs to take a shower.

A/N: Another chapter done!  I used my cool characters that sent me info for the boy's girlfriends.  Two don't have guys and the one who picked Jack, well Sarah's there so…  I need some more input.  I need the dad to hook up with someone.  Do you want it to be Medda or Rosa.  Both are really cool and a part of the story but I dunno which one would be best.  If you put it in your review it would be very helpful. 

I'm just a few chapters from the end, which is exciting, but at the same rime scares me.  I've been writing this story since April and it's almost over.  But great news.  My English teacher told my mom at parent teacher conferences that I was a great writer.  It's great to hear it from you guys in your reviews but this guys been looking at this stuff for twenty years.

A few minutes ago I finished a very productive discussion with my sisters boyfriend.  The title came from the drummer section of the marching band he was in a few years ago.  KKPA Thanksgiving!  They'd call it out and the color guard would yell back.  

There are also some songs 'cause Brooke hasta sing one at the party.  I want it to say that she wants to remember everything but it's coming to a change too.

'Nobody' by the Tony Rich Project

'Good Riddance' by Greenday

'Time after Time' by blaque

'Moment like this' by Kelly Clarkson

'(Love lives in) strange places' or 'Train on a track' by Kelly Rowland

Any other suggestions or votes would be greatly appreciated.  I have a few friends who have read the stories and others who will listen to my short  **cough not as long as reading it anyway cough** summary.  Just help me out here 'cause I'm stuck.

Why do you hafta be seventeen to see 'Eight Mile' two years!  Sorry, needed to vent.   I would absolutely love reviews and if I get six of them you will see shout outs in the next chapter, at least, maybe some muses too.  I haven't seen Lange, Splash or SaL in forever just to name a few.

Later.  

                                                               ~Hotshot~~~


	29. Party Time!

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 29

By Hotshot

            When she got out of the shower she threw on clean clothes and went back downstairs.  Her father had hired people to decorate.  There was nothing extremely amazing about the decorating.  The house was very old and had a large hall from when it had first been built, including a stage, where workers were setting up for Medda's show.  Hotshot helped a few others put tablecloths and plates on some of the tables.  Her father was not a chef and had ordered foods form several shops for the guests.  Hotshot was looking for some extra silverware when he found her in the kitchen.

            "Brooke, it's time for you to go get dressed," he said.

            Hotshot looked at her watch and sighed; it was five o'clock already.  She had to be dressed by six.  "Alright."  She took a slow pace upstairs and walked into her room to find what Medda and Rosa had picked out.  She knew it was a dress before she went into the room.  Medda and Rosa both wanted her to wear one, and her father didn't know she couldn't stand them.  Her frown moved into a smirk for a second when she saw it; at least it was a good color.  She could have pictured it being red, pale blue, or the worst Pink.

            The dress sitting in front of her was a dark, dark green, her favorite color.  She quickly changed and folded her clothes on the end of her bed.  First chance she got and she'd change back.  She turned and looked in the mirror, gasping at what she saw.  There was no way the reflection in the mirror was her.

            Hotshot had seen herself plenty of times in the mirror at the lodging house and it couldn't be the same person.  In her newsie clothes she'd always looked younger and shorter.  She was almost always mistaken for a boy and her muscular frame was shown off well.  Now she looked more feminine.  The dress showed off her frame nicely and made her look taller simply because it fit her better.  

            The dress had thin straps and a low neckline, unlike anything most other girls wore.  It fit somewhat tightly against her body and became loose and flared out past her waist.   

            "So, you like it?" The way Rosa said it from the doorway made it seem like she'd known it all along.

            "It's nice," Hotshot smiled.  She wasn't going to wear a dress everyday now but it wasn't as bad as she'd remembered.

            Rosa helped her with her hair and makeup.  Her hair was too short too do anything extravagant with so Rosa styled it a little to make it look better than just running a brush through it.  

Medda poked her head into the room, as they were finishing, "You look wonderful darling."

"Thanks Medda."

"Your father wants you downstairs in five minutes," she went on, "The guests should be arriving soon."

"I'll be down," she said as the two women left the room.  She sat down on her bed and looked into the mirror for a moment thinking.  What were the guys going to say when they saw her, especially Spot and Specs?  Finally she let those thoughts drift to the back of her mind and went downstairs.  

Her father smiled when he saw her, "You look beautiful, Sweetheart."

"Thanks Dad," she smiled, enjoying being complemented on her looks for once.  As long as she could remember she'd only been complemented for her fighting skills and comments.

It was then that her brother entered the room.  He wasn't in a suit but he was in something nicer than newsies would wear.  He glanced up at his father's face and took a sidelong glance at Hotshot.  That glance turned into a double take and he tripped over his own feet, landing face down on the floor.  "Holy shit!" he yelled sitting up.

"Andres!" her father looked appalled at his language.

Hotshot just laughed, "Thanks Blackjack."  She reached out a hand and helped him stand.

He looked her over again, "You look nice," he said, "Where'd you get the dress?"

"Rosa and Medda."

A carriage was pulling up in front of the house; the first guests were arriving.  "Now Brooke, remember to be nice to _all_ your guests," her father reminded her opening the door.

Hotshot frowned at being called Brooke but smiled when she saw the guests.  The Edwards walked up the front steps.  Mrs. Edwards, Lily, Maggie, and Ana followed Mr. Edwards and a young man she presumed was Benjamin.  The men walked right by her but the women stopped to chat for a while.

"I take it that's Benjamin." She spoke to Lily.

"Yes," the older girl rolled her eyes, "Rebel's coming tonight isn't he?"

"As far as I know." The two of them shared a grin as Lily followed her sisters to the hall.  Hotshot looked over toward the door.  She could hear the sounds of people in the distance and soon placed the voices.  A smile was on her face as many of the Brooklyn boys entered the front door and she was quick to hand out retorts when they commented on how she looked.  The girls she'd invited arrived next with Sarah, who promised the others were coming.  She took a moment to glance into the other room and saw Mr. Edwards' look of distaste at all the newsies.

The sound of a single pair of feet on the steps made her turn; she hadn't heard a carriage?  Rebel came in the door with a smile on his face, wearing a nice suit; similar to the one Blackjack was wearing.  He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.  "Is that little Hotshot?" he asked, "Look at you, ya look like one of those upper class ladies."

"Don't remind me."

"No you look nice." He kissed her hand politely and then flashed a grin.

Before he could get a word out Hotshot spoke, "Lily's in the hall.  If you can get her away from her father and Benjamin the closet is down that hall, second door on the left."

He raised an eyebrow, "You sure you an' Specs ain't gonna be in there?"  

"Go," she motioned to him.

People that she hadn't seen in years were arriving every few minutes.  Boys she'd gone to school with kissed her hand and tried pick-up lines on her.  It was when the first group of Manhattan boys entered that she stopped for a second.  David, Les, Jack, Bumlets, Race, Dutchy, Snoddy, Skittery, Kid Blink and Mush stood in front of her frozen.  Racetrack began to circle her.  Hotshot groaned, knowing exactly what was coming.  He stopped in front of her and opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by another voice.

"I guess I must've missed the article about Hell freezing over in the papes today." David said.  Many of the newsies turned to look at him.  

Racetrack closed his mouth with a snap and shrugged, "Better than what I had."  They all commented kindly on her outfit as they walked by and Race said, "Five ta one she cant last anudda half hour at that door."

Hotshot scooped up a dollar off the table and slammed it into Racetracks palm.  He grinned and put the money in his pocket.

More people were coming in.  Hummingbird and her girls had somehow slipped by unnoticed.  Rich girls that had been wary of Brooke's tomboyish ways came in and treated her like on of them, guess they didn't know she wasn't usually like that.  Several boys around her age came in and introduced themselves to her, each one kissing her hand.  The other Manhattan and Brooklyn boys arrived in groups and commented about her clothes.  

Standing in line after the mayor's son came a familiar figure.  Though he was more nicely dressed than usual he still had an egotistical smirk on his face and an ice-cold look on his eyes.  He also still carried the slingshot and gold-tipped cane.  He looked her up and down several times before kissing her hand, "Wow!"  He gave her a light hug, "Medda and Rosa did a good job.  I'd almost believe you were one a those rich goils."

"I can see that brudda of yours _tried_ to teach you some manners." She smirked.

"I'se got manners," he defended himself, "Right now I'se thinkin' Specs is the luckiest guy alive though.  Where is he?  I'd think the two a you would be all over each other?"

"Isn't here yet."  She motioned toward the hall, "Go have some fun."  

Several minutes later her father ushered her into the hall.  Specs still had not arrived yet but they weren't going to sit there all night.  Medda was performing up onstage and many couples were dancing on the floor.  An interesting sight caught her eye.  Some of the newsies were flirting with the rich girls while angry boyfriends looked on; same with the newsgirls.  Hummingbird was practically on top of Spot though and Hotshot could tell he wanted to be left alone.

She walked over to them and slipped her hands into Spot's.  "Hello Hummingbird." She said, "Spot, will you dance with me?"  

"Sure," He walked with her out to the center of the floor.  The two of them danced to the slow song receiving envious looks from others.  "So, what're you gonna do 'bout that girl?"

"You invited her," she reminded him, "But, don' worry.  I got an idea."

"Excuse me," Daniel appeared, "Allow me to cut in, get you away from this scum."

"That's alright," Hotshot dismissed him, "I'm better off with Spot, but don't forget, there are plenty of places to hide a body in here."  With that he was gone.

Her father was the next person to come over to them, "Are you enjoying yourself Brooke?"

"Yes sir," she said smiling as the song ended.  "Dad, this is Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn, Spot this is my father."

Spot went to spit in his palm but thought better of it.  Mr. Lynn saw what he had gone to do and smiled, shaking his head and remembering when he would have done the same. The time he'd done it to the governor's wife.  He spit in his hand and held it out to Spot.  The current Brooklyn leader smiled and shook the man's hand.  

"Brooke, there's  a young man who just arrived.  He's out in the entrance but he did ask for you." 

"Alright," she turned to Spot and pointed out a girl to him, "See her?"

"Yeah," he was looking her over with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Her name is Canada.  Go talk to her."  She gave him a small push.

"Are you tryin' ta set me up?" he asked turning around.

"That all depends on if it works or not now go.  I have plenty of other couples to set up tonight."  

Spot wiggled his eyebrows and then turned, strolling purposefully across the room.

Hotshot walked out to the entryway.  Specs was taking off his faded brown overcoat, looking around the large room.  His clothes were the same as always, which made her smile.  He fumbled nervously with his hat. 

 "Specs." She said.

He turned his attention in her direction.  "Hotshot," he sucked in a breath, "You look amazing."

*            *            *

Specs' breath seemed caught in his throat.  There was no way the girl in front of him was the same girl he sold with everyday.  That girl never dressed in anything other than a tattered old pair of pants, a tank top that was darker from streaks of dirt and a usually ripped or stained shirt.  That girl's hair was always hidden underneath a dark cap or stolen hat and her face completely void of any makeup or expression.  That girl was most definitely not the one in front of him right now.

But it was.  Unlike the newsie clothes the dress fit her figure tightly and showed off her curves.  The eye shadow brought out her bright eyes, which were usually hidden by the shadow of her cap.  Her hair, instead of being hidden and greasy when it was visible, seemed to have just been dried and styled to perfectly frame her face.  The smile on her face told of the happiness she usually only expressed when selling.

"Thank you," her response broke him out of the daze he was in.

"I can only imagine what the other guys have said."  It wasn't the best thing for him to have said but it was the first thing to come to his numbed mind.  

She smiled, "Race didn't get a single word in.  Dave beat him to it.  It was so perfect."

"I take it I'm the last one to get here."

She shrugged, "I haven't seen a few of the fellas but I'm pretty sure they just snuck in."  She took his hat from his hands and hung it up.  Then she nodded toward the hall, which was at this point exploding with the sounds of music and talking, "C'mon, you're gonna miss all the fun."

Specs walked into the hall at her side and looked around.  Most of his friends were in plain sight, flirting with other newsgirls or the ones from the upper class.  Almost all were dressed in something better than what they sold in.  Had the newsies best clothes not been almost as shabby as their worst he would have felt out of place.  He looked around and examined the scene before him.  There were so many people he didn't know, and a few he remembered from his days of being part of an upper class family.  Newsgirls were swarming all over the place, and, knowing Hotshot and Sarah as well as he did he was absolutely positive all of the girls they'd invited would end up with a guy by the end of the night.

*            *            *

Hotshot glanced up at Specs who had stopped beside her.  He was looking around the room almost awestruck.  She didn't say anything, having felt the same way when she walked into the room for the first time. She had no idea how so many people had accumulated so quickly.

Specs looked very handsome.  It wasn't anything new as he was wearing his normal clothes but he seemed to be different in some way.  He looked determined and held himself a little higher than usual.  He looked so nice without his hair covered by his hat too.

"You're mother wanted me to send you over when you got here." she interrupted both their thoughts.  She motioned toward a table on the far side of the room and he nodded.

"Where's Lily?" he asked spotting all other members of his family seated around the table.

"With Rebel," Hotshot replied brightly, "In the closet.  Don't worry he won't try anything."  She looked quickly over her shoulder, "Well my father wants me to dance with a few more guys than Spot so go talk to your mother and I'll catch up with you later."  The two headed in opposite directions.  As Specs walked towards his parents he realized that he could be stuck in their house again after the next day.  Or dead and buried was the next thought that entered his mind.

Hotshot, meanwhile walked over to her father and brother.  They were mingling among a large group of teenagers.  

"There is a reason this is called a ball; you're supposed to dance," her father stared at her as he spoke.

She nodded knowing that all the boys behind her were listening and would ask her to dance the second she turned around, the rich ones getting to her first.  "Yes sir."  She sighed to herself and turned around.

What seemed like a million voices asked her at once but only one hand was offered.  She took it gladly and walked out to the dance floor.

"Roman, you are a saint," she declared.

"Hotshot, I'se the only newsie in Brooklyn who's been there longer than Spot an' you.  Did ya think I was gonna let you dance wit' those hoity toity bums 'fore I got to dance wit' you."  As the pace of the song quickened he pulled her along with him to the music, both of them laughing.

After Roman was a line of newsies and rich boys.  Unfortunately she had to dance with both.  Daniel and several of his friends were the boys she quickly dismissed with an inconspicuous signal to the newsies.  For the guys she'd danced with Jack, Race, Kid Blink, Mush, Dutchy, Pickpocket, Royal, Ace and Wiser.  Swinger approached her as a certain type of music was played.  He carefully cut in and pulled her along with him.  The boy had been aptly named due to his talent at throwing punches but also because he was amazing at swing dancing.  

Though she was considered one of the guys in Brooklyn she was still a girl and was somewhat lighter than the guys so she'd often helped him practice.  She'd seen the familiar grin on his face the second the swing music started.  Being a gentleman he asked, "How 'bout it?"  At least he _tried_ to be a gentleman.

Hotshot took his hand and felt herself being pulled along with him in time to the music.  She was used to the feeling and remembered the clubs she'd gone to in Brooklyn.  At a pause in the music she caught sight of Specs watching her with an interested look on his face.  She smirked right back and was pulled into the depths of the dance floor.  Near the end Swinger caught her eye with a gleam similar to the one in Spot's.  Seconds later she felt as though she were flying, being lifted high into the air.  When the song ended however there was another rich suitor waiting to dance with her.  

She danced with him to one song and seemed happy when it ended.  She looked around frantically for one of her friends but found all of them talking to the girls or dancing.  She inwardly groaned, this would mean another dance with him.  

"Do you mind if I cut in?" A voice asked suddenly behind her.  The boy she was dancing with started to object, but she was quicker and slipped out of his grasp and into the newsie's.  The pace was quick and he swept her along the dance floor in time to the music.

"Specs, thank you so much." She said.

"Well you did promise me a dance," he pointed out. 

"Yes, I did," She let him lead around the dance floor until she heard a familiar set of voices.  "Specs?" she said hesitantly.

He looked over her shoulder in the direction the voices were coming from.  "Let's go," he muttered.  

"I promise we will dance again after," Hotshot whispered, "Just, Hummin'bird around Spot isn't a good thing."  The two of them walked over to where a group of newsies were standing around the punch bowl.

"C'mon Spot, come dance with me." Hummingbird was all but throwing herself at Spot.  Being somewhat shy Canada had drawn back to watch the scene play out.  Hotshot had seen the girl dance with Spot several times and they seemed to be enjoying each other's company.  Unfortunately she was also pretty sure that Canada wouldn't stand up for herself. 

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" She snapped.  Several sets of eyes moved to her.

Hummingbird stood and moved in front of Hotshot, "I'se claiming my territory.  See I need a new guy an' Spot here is it.  But then it seems that you can't keep a guy," she glanced at Specs, "So you wouldn't know nuthin' about that would you."

"Well as I see it he's been dancin' wit' Canada here all night an' basically ignores you," Hotshot said in a deadly calm voice, which made even Spot a little nervous.  "I got a few problems with what you just said too.  First, me an' Specs ain't together at the moment, but if we were I wouldn't need to claim him 'cause we ain't like you.  You on the other hand seem to need to be all over some guy twenty-four hours a day.  And as for Spot… Well, he seems to be able to make up his mind on his own.  He won't hit you to get the message across but I know he won't mind me doin' it for him."

"Fine then," Hummingbird moved past her, "Then I'll just ask your date here to dance."  

Hotshot moved to block her path scooping up a glass of red wine off the table.  "I don't think so," she said very calmly.  With that she dumped the drink down the front of Hummingbird's white dress. The girl cried out in fury and stormed out.  "Can you entertain yourselves for the rest of the evening?" she asked the rest of the crowd.  When they nodded and went back to their dates she took Specs' arm, "Let's go for a walk."

They walked halfway down the empty hallway before she collapsed into a chair, "After tonight I never want to dance again."

"You know you don't mean that." Specs said, leaning against the wall next to her.

"Yeah, I do," she said.  She laughed, shaking her head, "The look on her face was priceless."

Specs grinned back at her as she got herself under control and stood up.  She looked at him with a smile on her face, "We should probably ge-"

She was cut off suddenly as he brought his lips down over hers.  It had been so long since he'd kissed her and it felt good to kiss him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his slid into place around her waist.  It was a good enough kiss that Race surely would have screamed 'when's the wedding' if he'd seen them.  As they parted Specs finished the sentence she'd started, "Get back."

She kissed him lightly and muttered, "Yeah, we need to finish that dance."

The two returned to the room as a new song started.  It was slower than the one they'd danced to earlier but they joined the couples on the floor.  Hotshot noticed the envious looks some of the rich guys were shooting Specs and almost laughed.  She'd never had this many guy vying for her attention in her life.  Too bad she'd already chosen Specs over all of them.

"So Hotshot," Specs started to gain her attention, "I wanted to ask you something."

She turned to face him, "Yeah, go ahead."

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to," he swallowed nervously, "Well, since the trial is basically over.  If you wanted to get back together.  Will you be my girl again?"

Hotshot hadn't expected for him to bring this up before the next day but she was almost prepared, "Specs I really care about you.  It's just; I have no idea where my life is going after the trial.  I want to help my dad out some.  I don't know if I'm staying in Manhattan or going back to Brooklyn.  Specs, I don't even know if I'll get away from the Pulitzers.  If you'll get away from your parents."

"So that's a 'no'." Specs sighed.

"That is a 'maybe'." Hotshot nodded, "Just; I need a little while to figure things out if I get emancipation..." She was going to go on to tell him that her maybe was a close to 'yes' as you could get without it actually being a yes but was interrupted by the music being cut off and her father's voice echoing through the room. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, since the party seems to be winding down I believe it is time that Brooke come up here and sing a song for us." He motioned for her to come up to the stage.  

Hotshot squeezed Specs' hand slightly before walking forward, "Be right back," she promised.  She climbed the stairs to the stage and stood next to her father.

"I am also very happy to announce that we are very optimistic about the outcome tomorrow being in Brooke's favor.  If and when she receives emancipation she will be staying here with her brother and I."  He patted her on the shoulder and walked offstage.

Brooke stood there in shock for a minute.  She'd been trying to make this decision for the past few months and now her father had just decided for her.  She looked out at the guys and could see that most of them understood that it wasn't all her decision.  She shook herself out of her stupor and thought of a song.  After a brief chat with the band she walked to the front of the stage to sing.  The music started and she began to tap her foot with it, the words flowing off her tongue…

As she sang the firs verse she looked at her brother, Jack and Spot, thinking of how her life was when she lived among the upper class.  Everyone claimed it was the best way to live life but that way of life was the main reason she'd run away.

_Here's to the good life or so they say  
All those parties and games that all those people play  
They tell me this is the place to be  
All these beautiful people and nothin' to see  
  
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here  
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here  
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town   
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around  
  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

The second verse revolved around her life with the newsies and all of the friends she had made in the past ten years.  Her gaze landed on a large group of them in the center of the floor, especially Specs who stood in front of them.  She knew how hard it would be for her to leave them.  
  
_On the other side of a coin  
There's a face there's a memory somewhere that I can't erase  
And there's a place that I find someday  
But sometimes I feel like it's slippin' away  
  
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here  
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here  
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town   
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around  
  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

_In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

_Some things are lost some left behind  
Some things are better left for someone else to find  
Maybe in time I can finally see  
I just wonder, wonder if you think about me  
  
Sometimes I feel like something is gone here  
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here  
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town   
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around  
  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

_In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

In a Little While by Uncle Kracker

The room was full of cheers.  Most of the newsies understood why she'd sung the song.  Even Specs was cheering, but halfheartedly.  Hotshot could see the look on his face.  He was trying to express happiness, but sorrow was showing through a little too.

As she walked down the stairs she noticed most of the crowd drifting toward the door.  She glanced wildly around for Specs and caught sight of Race, Dutchy, and a few of the other guys pulling him toward the door, complaining that Kloppman wouldn't let them in.  Specs shrugged on his coat and picked up his hat.  As she caught his eye he waved and turned, leaving with his friends.

She noticed Rebel walking Lily to the door and Mr. Edwards looking on angrily.  She smiled as Rebel kissed Lily goodnight and went back to the hall.  Her father was waiting for her. 

"I'm sorry for springing that on you a few minutes ago." He said, "But you will stay here won't you?"

"Yeah, I'll stay," she said grinning. She leaned down to pick up some trash that lay on the floor.

"No, it's been a long night and we have to be at court early tomorrow.  Go get to bed."  Her father insisted.

She nodded and started upstairs.  She nearly collided with her brother.  

"I still say, holy shit you look different in that outfit," Blackjack claimed.  "I'm pretty sure most of the newsies agree with me.  But tomorrow you'll be back to your normal attire, right?"

"Yup," she continued on her way and changed in her room.  She smiled to herself thinking of all the couples she'd set up tonight.  Canada and Spot were very happy together, and she was pretty sure they'd get together.  Spot would have someone else to care about so much.  Then there was Chiara and Much, Splash and Dutchy, Mouse and David all seemed to be getting along quite nicely.   The group of couples could also include Laze and Race, Random and Snoddy, Frenchy and Snitch, Dodger and Jake, and Sweets and Kid Blink, who was back to his normal self and flirting up a storm.  Glare, Tigerlily, and Shade were by themselves.  Shade liked Jack but there was nothing Hotshot could do about that.  She and Specs soon popped up in her mind.  What was she going to do?  If she stayed she couldn't be with him, but she had to help her father get settled.  She'd talk to him tomorrow.  He always understood where she was coming from.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow she lost or gained her freedom.  Tomorrow she made decisions that would change the rest of her life.  Tomorrow her life would become better or it would be ruined.  So many things could go wrong, but they could also change for the better.  Tomorrow she could be with Specs.  Everything was determined tomorrow.  Tomorrow she had to make more decisions than she wanted, but that was tomorrow.  Everything could wait until tomorrow.

A/N:  Merry Christmas everyone!  It took me so long to finish this chapter because I couldn't decide what song to use.  Almost no one reviewed until a week after I put the chapter up so I looked to other people for help.  The song I chose wasn't even one of the one's I put on the list anyway.  Don't worry, one of the songs from the list will be on here before the end of the story, which btw I am working very hard to finish over vacation.  

I am brainstorming so many other storylines for Newsie stories.  The best part is most of them haven't been seen before, at least not by me.  Hotshot is probably going to have roles in a few other stories too so keep an eye out for her.  I'd give individual shout outs to everyone but I really want to get this chapter up.  That and my sister and friend are playing Black Jack right next to me and I want to play.  So shout outs to Drama-Queen, Katie, Chachi, Frenchy, Starrika, Crystal Lefler, Caitlin22888, Splash, and SaL for that e-mail.  I hope t see updates from those of you that write and reviews from everyone.  For anyone who likes the song, it's copyrighted by Uncle Kracker.

I would love to get a bunch of reviews for Christmas.  If I read any stories tomorrow those people will all get reviews for their Christmas presents from me.  So if you wanna give me a Christmas present click that little purple button that says go and tell me what you think.  I don't care if you've never review before.  Another chapter soon, I promise, hopefully before we go back to school.  Have a nice Christmas and a happy vacation.  In the words of my good friend Mandi (and Harry Potter) Happy Christmas!

~Hotshot~~~   


	30. Decisions

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 30

By Hotshot

**Splash:** You're right it was priceless.  I can think of just the person to play her part I real life.  The couples did come out pretty good, and here is another chapter as ordered.

**Frenchy:**  Sugar high, I hear ya, especially around Christmas time. I'm glad you lied the song.  I was worried that people would complain that I didn't use their choice.    I don't see why we have to go back to school next Thursday.  It's not like anyone's gonna work.  They should just give us two weeks off for winter break.

**Drama-Queen:**  Yeah, I sorta needed to put Canada with Spot.  Lets just say the wonderful author behind Canada has been on my case forever because I've been 'mean' to poor little Spot.  As for the drink, Hummingbird had it coming.

**Caitlin22888:**  Hotshot and Specs being together is a tough question, seeing as they are very dysfunctional in every story they're put in together.  There is some drama between them in this chapter too though.  Lots of fun to write.

**I** want to be able to **write more** of these next time so please review.  And **SaL**, I want a **review** from you this time.

And now on with the show… 

For some forever-unknown reason Hotshot's father let her brother wake her up the next morning.  And for some reason thought Blackjack would do it nicely.  Then you need to think, c'mon, this is a newsie we're talking about, there's no way that's possible.  Blackjack took a flying leap onto her bed sending both of them sliding across it, and him falling onto the floor.

            "Blackjack," Hotshot groaned, "Go away and let me sleep."

            "Ah, there's the little girl that I missed so much over the past few years," He sat up and met her glare.  He grinned at her when most of the other newsies would have turned and fled before she tried to kill him.  

            "Bite me," she muttered, shoving him backwards. 

            He only laughed, pushing himself up and ordering her out of bed.  He left the room only when he was sure she wouldn't bury herself under the blankets and fall back asleep.  

            Her father wanted her to dress nicer than usual but Hotshot didn't want to.  It would make her seem like a traitor in her way of thinking.  She'd acted and dressed like a newsie the entire way through.  Why would that change now that the judge was making a decision?  She threw on her normal newsie clothes but replaced her battered gray shirt with a newer one, dark green.  Her father only glanced at her, half-disapprovingly as she walked through the kitchen.

            Everyone in that house climbed into the carriage several minutes later. From Brooklyn training Hotshot's face did not show any emotion.  The only way to tell she was nervous was that she was biting her nails.  She was the first one out of the carriage as they reached the courthouse.  It was nearly half an hour before they were to begin and already there was a large crowd of newsies outside.

            "Heya Hots, how's it rollin'?" The always-influential voice was the first to greet her.  He nodded in greeting to her father and brother as they walked inside.

            Hotshot felt most of her nervousness disappear for the moment and walked over to where the boys were standing.  The Brooklyn and Manhattan newsies formed a huge crowd, probably big enough to make most wonder who was going to sell the papers that day.  Spot wrapped an arm around her in comfort as the other boys surged with her.  

            "You get credit for the setup," he whispered in her ear.

            She glanced at him seeing him smiling and nodding to where Sarah, Canada and the other girls were all standing.  A grin crept over her face and she turned to the other guys.  The square echoed with the sounds made by all of the boys for the next several minutes, but there was an immediate hush when another carriage pulled up.  Every boy, even the younger ones, stood and watched as Mr. Edwards and the Pulitzer's continued inside.

            "We'd better go in," Hotshot said, the nervousness had returned.

            As everyone started up the stairs and into the building Specs took hold of her hand.  "Good luck," he said giving her hand a light squeeze, "I'll talk to you when we get out."  He released her hand and kissed her cheek before following his friends inside.  

            Hotshot stood in the doorway for a moment staring into the crowded room, knowing her fate would be sealed the minute she set foot in that room.  She shook her head to clear her thoughts and started up the isle to her seat next to Denton.  Many of her friends yelled encouragement to her as she walked by.  

            Denton raised an eyebrow as she sat down, "Are you ready?"

            "As ready as I'll ever be," she responded.

            "Judge Monahan might want to ask you a few questions while he makes this decision." He continued, trying to catch her eye.

            "I know Denton," she looked over at him, "I'm ready for whatever.  This is just another day for me.  I mean it can't get any worse than the last few weeks have been, can it?"

            Denton shook his head, "No I suppose not."

            The room went silent as Judge Monahan entered and took his seat.  He organized the papers on his desk and looked over the occupants of the courtroom.  Never in the past several years had their been so many people viewing a case over one person's life, and never over a woman's life.  "Miss Lynn, I have a few questions for you before a decision can be made in your case.  Will you please stand?"

            Hotshot stood up and clasped her hands together in front of her.  She nodded for the judge to begin his questioning.

            "Miss Lynn, most newsies have nicknames to hide them from the police, correct?"

            "Yes sir."

            "And do you have one of these names?"

            "Yes."

            "What is it?"

            "They call me Hotshot."

            "And why is that?"

            "Since I was a kid I've been known to be overconfident.  I hit a twelve year old newsie and gave him a black eye my first day with the Brooklyn newsies."

            "Miss Lynn, have you ever helped hide a criminal?"

            "That depends on your definition of criminal sir, but if you mean someone running from the police then yes.  All the newsies hide each other.  I never regret it.  The refuge takes these boys off the streets, but when they are released they have no money to but papes and usually end up worse off than before."

            "One final question Miss Lynn."  The judge looked at her after looking around the entire courtroom.  "Why would you choose to live on the streets over living in a mansion?  I understand the lack of freedoms, but to be comfortable and not have to steal to get by…  Why would you want anything else?"

            Hotshot smiled to herself, "Your Honor, when I lived in those mansions my entire life was controlled by some rule.  On the streets I am free to do whatever I want.  I'm able to go where I want, do what I want, and talk to whoever I want.  More important than that I have friends that I know will not leave me if I suddenly go bankrupt.  Your Honor, I will go back to that life eventually.  I know that.  I can't be a newsie forever, and I will need to get a job, but for now I can continue being a newsie.  I'm a teenager sir, not an adult.  I don't need to worry about being married and getting a job.  I am educated, with a high school diploma and I have street smarts.  When I get too old to be a newsie I will get a real job.  I'll probably have connections all over the city, because I know a lot of my friends are going to get somewhere in this city.  Until that time comes I want to live my life to the fullest and do what I want."

            The judge nodded, "You may take your seat."

            Hotshot sat down, not making eye contact with anyone.  Her eyes were on the judge.  He thought for a moment before speaking again.  

            "There are some sentences that must be passed out before the verdict, and everything I say will be final in this case, no appeal allowed."

            Hotshot balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the skin of her palms.

            Judge Monahan stood, "Joseph Pulitzer will be fined three thousand dollars for mistreatment of a child, and illegal arrangement of a marriage.  Jonathan Pulitzer will be fined five thousand dollars for child abuse.  And sir if there is so much as a weapons charge brought against you it will be enough to send you to the state penitentiary for life.  As for miss Lynn…"

            Hotshot sucked in a breath, she could still be sent back with them.

            "Let the record show that Miss Lynn is to be granted emancipation and allowed out of the custody of Joseph and Jonathan Pulitzer."

            She couldn't move as cheers rang through the courtroom.  The noise was deafening but she didn't hear anything, only those words echoed through her mind… 'Miss Lynn is to be granted emancipation'.  She stood with a smile spreading over her face, "Thank you Denton."

            "You're welcome Brooke."  He smiled, "Good luck with the newsies."

            She turned to where the Pulitzer's and Mr. Edwards sat.  "You better watch out Mr. Edwards," she warned, "I plan to become a lawyer and if you're still around then you should get used to losing cases."  She proceeded out the doors as a crowd left.  The newsies cried out to her as they passed, claiming that they'd see her later and hurrying in various directions to celebrate.  Her father and brother walked off to fetch the carriage driver while Hotshot stood in the lobby.

            "Congratulations," Specs spoke from behind her.  

            She began to turn toward him when another voice spoke from her other side.  "I don't care what that judge said Brooke, you will be back in that mansion by the end of next week."  Jonathan Pulitzer stood behind her.

            "You can't touch me."

            "I'll only resort to that if my other methods don't work.  You may as well come along now."  He reached forward to take her arm.

            "Leave her alone!" Specs snapped, "You lost, get used to that fact."

            "She may be scum like you boy but at least I can make something of her.  She's probably as much of a whore as her mother."

            Before Hotshot could move Specs drove his fist into Pulitzer's face, knocking the older man to the ground.  Security guards rushed over, first to arrest Specs.  They stopped, however, when they saw Jonathan they paused.  His coat had flipped back to reveal a revolver.  The chief of police arrived as the old man began to yell for them to arrest Specs.  The chief shook his head and pulled Jonathan to his feet, pushing him roughly toward the police wagon.  Hotshot remembered the judge's promise and grinned.  Judge Monahan may have been 'movealong' Monahan to the newsies but she knew as a fact that if he promised something it happened.

            The door to the police wagon slammed shut with a satisfying bang, and the carriage rolled forward.  Jonathan Pulitzer yelled from inside, screaming insults directed at the police officers and Hotshot.  She didn't mind though, he was as good as locked up.  The surprised look on Joseph Pulitzer's face was just as priceless.  

            She turned to Specs as the last police officer disappeared from sight, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him.  He staggered back for a moment before wrapping his arms around her waist.  They were quickly interrupted by a strict voice behind them.

            "Matthew, get your hands off that whore," Mr. Edwards commanded.

            Specs pulled his face back from Brooke's, looking into her eyes and sighing.  The look on his face was unreadable, even to her.  He turned to his father, all the while keeping a hand on Hotshot's waist.  "What do you want?" he asked.

            "Your mother and sisters are waiting in the carriage.  We don't want to keep them waiting." The man nodded to a carriage waiting by the stairs.

            His words sunk in more quickly in Hotshot's mind, "But we won.  We won the case," she said, "We mad a deal that if Denton and I won he wouldn't have to go back."

            "I made a deal with two worthless little street rats.  Promises like that are not meant to be kept," he spat.  "Go get in the carriage Matthew."  When Specs didn't move he added, "Now!"

            "No," Specs stated calmly.

            "What!?" his father stopped, "What did you say to me boy?"

            "No, I'm not going back," Specs said, "I'm staying here and there's nothing you can do about it."

            "I will beat you within an inch of death when we get home boy.  I swear to God.  Now you stop this insubordination an listen to me-"

            "No, you listen to me," Specs yelled loudly enough to catch the attention of the few newsies who still stayed behind.  He lowered his voice a little, "You listen to me.  I am going to be eighteen in less than five months.  I ain't gonna go home just so you can beat me every night.  I don' care what kind of things you can do to make my life miserable.  If you bring me back I can tell you right now that I'll be gone every morning.  You may think I need to depend on you but I don't, and neither do Mom and my sisters.  We don't need you.  I have my own life now Dad, and I don't need your help.   I don't need to depend on you, so there's no way you are getting me back there."

            Mr. Edwards stood there for a moment before turning and stalking away.  Specs turned to Hotshot as soon as his father climbed into the carriage, "Now, where were we?"

            She let him wrap her in his arms again and kissed him.  He pulled back a moment later with a serious look covering her face.  "Hotshot, the trial's over.  I need to know, can we be together again?"

            "Brooke," her father's voice echoed over her shoulder.  "Brooke, come along we need to be going."

            She glanced quickly between the two men.  She wanted to scream in frustration, but at the same time cry from not knowing what to do.  Would anyone really have known if put in her situation.

            "Hotshot, answer me please?" Specs' face loomed in front of her.  Her father's order echoed from behind her.

            "Specs, I can't be with you.  I'm so sorry, but I can't."  Hotshot didn't want to see his reaction because she was pretty sure she already knew it. She turned and ran to where her father was waiting.  She looked back to where they'd been standing when she climbed into the carriage to see he'd disappeared.  The horses began to pull the carriage along the street and she turned in her seat, staring out at any newsies yelling the headline on the street, 'Girl Freed From Stepfather's Clutches' or various assortments of that headline.  She sighed, knowing some of them might change that before the end of the selling day.

            They stopped by the lodging house to pick up the few things she'd left there.  Kloppman nodded as she walked up the stairs.  She packed everything but tucked her slingshot into the underside of the bunk above hers and her bag of marbles under her own.  She'd be back to visit them at least.  If not someone else would find them and give them to Spot.

            A sad look was on Kloppman's face when she came downstairs with her extra accessories.  The few newsies who were in the building looked at her confused as she walked up to the front desk.  She placed a dollar on the counter.  She would have had two but Race still hadn't paid her the money from his bet the previous night.  "How ever long that lasts for the guys.  Tell 'em I said goodbye, alright Kloppman?"

            The old man shook his head, a thin smile stretching across his lips, "You'll be back."

            She glanced over her shoulder at her father who was waiting patiently outside, "I hope so Kloppman.  I really hope so."

            "Girl, your father will keep you away from here as much as Santa Fe kept Jack away during the strike.  Sure you'll stay with him for a while, but you'll be back."

            She managed to smile and then walked back outside.  While Kloppman was positive that she'd be back she wasn't so certain.

            The drive to her father's house was quiet.  The excitement about her winning the trial was still pouring between her brother and her father, but she was sick of it.  They reached the house and her father let her unpack before calling her to his office.

            "We need to talk about your going back to school, young lady.  I want to be sure that lie you told the judge is erased."

            "That wasn't a lie.  I finished high school. (Was it called high school back then, I dunno, do you?…)" She stared at her father.

            "You said you didn't go to school while you were a newsie.  How else could you be educated?"

            "When you went to Brooklyn did you ever meet a newsie named Wise?"

            "Yes, he was one of the most highly educated newsies around."

            "Well, he sort of mentored this kid who's about my age, maybe a few months older.  Anyway, we call the guy Wiser.  He is the only newsie, or one of the only one's, that Spot and Rebel let go to school.  He's gonna be a teacher so it sort of worked out well.  He'd go to school in the mornings and teach the rest of us what he learned in the evening."  She laughed, "The only time he ever got away with yelling at Spot was when Spot didn't do the homework.  He taught most of us, but more, and more people dropped out when they thought they'd learned enough.  Spot made me; Pickpocket, the girls and a few other guys stay in.  Wiser teaches the younger newsies too.  He made arrangements with these teachers.  When they take those really important tests all of us that are still in the program will go in and take it at some time during the week.  The guys and I graduated this past spring.  Laze and Sweets will next spring.  Spot ain't always there 'cause of turf wars and the strike an' all but he should be done by then too."

            For some reason her father still looked doubtful.

            "My diploma's at the Brooklyn lodging house if you want me to go get it.  Wiser keeps them in some drawer Mr. Dawson lets him use."

            "No, I believe you," he said, "I'll have your brother pick it up later though.  Supposedly there's a poker game going on at the lodging house tonight."

            Hotshot's eyes lit up; a poker game at the lodging house.  She hadn't been to one in ages.

            "I told him to say hello to your friends for you." Her father said, "You and I need to catch up. We haven't had time to do that yet."

            There would be other poker games she reasoned with herself but her father and her hadn't really had a chance to talk since he'd been released.  There were other things she'd need to deal with but those could wait for a while.  She needed to get to know her father again.

            "So is Spot gonna be there tonight?" She asked her brother as he prepared to leave later.

            "Nope," Blackjack said, "He's stayin' in Manhattan for another two weeks or sumthin' like that.  He needs to sort everything out like that and they'se havin' one a those meetings with the other borough leaders.  It's Manhattan's turn to host it so he's just stayin' there.  Pickpocket's coming back 'till then so he'll be there tonight.  I'll tell them all that you say hello."

            "Thanks Blackjack," she nodded to him as he slipped out the door.  She found her father in the sitting room several minutes later and sat down to join him.  They sat there in silence for a few moments before her father started their conversation; "So how old were you when that brother of yours dragged you off to the newsies for the first time?"

            She grinned and started to tell him about everything that had happened, leaving out the parts he wouldn't want to hear.  These would include some of the time she spent with Spot and the fight with Mitchell.  There was so much that each of them wanted to know that they were still talking when Andres came in complaining that Royal cheated him out of all of his money.

            The next morning hotshot was sent to go shopping with Rosa.  Her father approved of her wearing newsie clothes but he wanted her to have some nicer things to wear to, besides most of her older clothes were torn and stained with dirt.  They bought a number of tank tops, long-sleeved shirts and buttoned shirts, a few pairs of pants and even a few skirts and blouses that she swore to Rosa that she wouldn't be caught dead wearing.  As they walked back to the carriage she noticed a few of her friends watching her from their selling spots.  Pickpocket, Roman, and Swinger approached the carriage at their normal leisurely pace.  

            "So youse leavin' us for some hoity-toity lifestyle after all, huh?" Roman snapped.  When she began to defend herself he just shook his head and stalked off.

            "You guys, that ain't how it is." She told the remaining two newsies. 

            "We know," Swinger said, "Whatta you want us to tell the guys back home and in Manhattan.  Not a lot of 'em are mad, jus' confused.  You know Roman, his only fault is that temper a his.

            "Tell 'em that my dad expected me to stay with him.  I'se stayin' ta help him settle in.  I don't know what's gonna happen after that; there's some stuff I gotta figure out before I come back to the newsies."

            Swinger nodded, "Talk to you later." He waved as he ran to catch up with Roman.

            "Roman'll probably come apologize to you sometime soon," Pickpocket said, "you know him."

            "Maybe he's right though," she said indicating to Rosa that she was going to walk back.  The older woman just shrugged and the carriage pulled away from the curb.  "Maybe I just let my dad make the decision for me."  She and Pickpocket began to walk back toward her house, both of them selling his papers as they went.

            "What are you talking about?" He asked looking at her sideways.

            "Remember that day when you guys were asking how big a party we should have had when I came back to Brooklyn?"

            "Yeah, so."

            "Well, when I first came to Manhattan I missed Brooklyn so much.  They're really different paces, and I woulda come back to Brooklyn at the first chance you gave me…"

            "But…" Pickpocket prodded. 

            "But, I dunno, the guys here sorta grow on ya.  There aren't as many as in Brooklyn, an' they aren't as tough but it works just as well.  I felt as at home there as I did those first few years I was here.  You guys asked me to come back to Brooklyn, an' a bunch of them asked me if I was staying in Manhattan.  I felt trapped.  I couldn't make one decision without someone hating me."

            "We wouldn't hate you," he told her, "I mean we'd love it if you came back, but if you wanna stay in Manhattan no one's gonna start a fight over it.  You love Specs and all so you should go back there."

            "I do not _love_ Specs!" she cried out, "Where did you get an idea like that?"

            He laughed, "Maybe you just haven't realized it yet.  We think you should go where you're gonna be happiest.  I get that you wanna help your dad get settled but the longer you stay the harder it's gonna be to leave or decide.  Your dad thinks you're going to stay forever but I know you better than he does.  Nuthin' could keep you from bein' a newsie that long."  He looked around her street as they reached the front steps, "Who sells around here?"

            "No one," she sighed, "Spot made the guys avoid it when I was in Brooklyn and no one's had the sense to claim it.  Extremely annoying though."

            "What is?"

            "I gotta walk like three streets down to buy a paper, every morning."

            "I'll bring Roman, Swinger, Royal, Ace, an' Spot by later.  We'll have newsies sellin' here sooner or later."

            "You better," she laughed, nodding toward the house where you could hear Andres arguing with someone, "Or else I'd lose my sanity.  We may be richer but this is more of a madhouse than all the lodging houses in New York combined."

            A/N:  I think that was the smallest space between updates that I've had yet.  I had a great Christmas if anyone is interested.  My sister and me got cell phones.  Only 600 minutes a month.  Hers will be gone in a week.  I am guessing there will only be about three more chapters in this story, but then I also said there would be thirty chapters in the whole thing and look at this, chapter thirty and I'm still not done.  I want to thank those people who reviewed the last chapter again.  My last few chapters haven't gotten that many reviews so thanks and please review again.

            For those of you that read and do not review please, please, please review this or the next chapter.  That little purple button that says go, yeah, press that.  I really would love to know what you guys think of my stories.  If I don' get a lot or reviews I might stop putting stuff up.  C'mon, reviewing stories should be fun.  Tell me what you thought was funny, what you think I can fix, or who you want to see more of.  Hell, you could even tell me random little things that happened to you and I wouldn't care.  Joke around; I love to do that with people.  Give me screen names for IM.  I just got one like five minutes ago and I don't know that many people who I can talk about newsies with.  If you wanna talk definitely IM me, my screen name is Hotshot52387. Add me to your buddy list or something.

Next Chapter:  Hotshot starts to get restless I her new life and goes to talk to her father…

**_~Hotshot~~~_**


	31. Tough Choices

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 31

By Hotshot

            Though several of the Brooklyn newsies started selling in her neighborhood Hotshot couldn't get used to her lifestyle.  Her father wanted her to stop being a newsie and act more like a respectable young woman.  He wasn't near as bad as Pulitzer, but she couldn't go out with them near as much as before.  It wasn't that he didn't allow her to; he merely frowned upon it.  She didn't want to disappoint him. 

Within the first week she was getting bored and impatient.  As a newsie there was always something to do, or something exciting going on.  She loved being at home and seeing her father and brother every day but she couldn't take having nothing to do.

Every afternoon she and Pickpocket talked about everything that was going on.  Thankfully Spot wasn't mad at her, and neither were most of the Manhattan guys.  He asked her about some information concerning the leaders meeting.  It was a yearly occurrence that Pickpocket and Hotshot had been dragged along to every year since Spot had become leader.

"I know we complained every year but I think I'm gonna miss being there." Hotshot said.

Pickpocket lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, "That's only 'cause you ain't gonna be there.  I'd gladly let you go for me."

She pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it on the ground, "Don't smoke.  It'll kill you one day."

"Yes, Mother."

"Don't start with me Kyle."

"Hotshot," he whined, "Don't call me that."   He stood and pulled on his cap, "How long you been back here for?"

"Week and a half, maybe a little more."

"Good luck, I gotta go back and catch up wit' some of the guys.  I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she nodded.  As he trotted down the street she started inside.  Blackjack was out with some of his friends.  She picked up Specs' book from the end of her bed and opened it.  She'd had so much free time over the past few days so most of it was finished.  Of course reading out her in a trance until supper and after that she was right back in her room.  By the time she finished Blackjack was home and she could hear him in his room, which was again right next to hers.

The book, and talking to Pickpocket had made her think.  The idea of going back to the newsies was growing in the back of her mind and spreading.  She just wanted someone to back her up on the idea.  She walked out of her room and a little ways down the hall to where her brother's bedroom door was.  She knew he had a guest but didn't really care who it was.  She opened the door to find him sitting in a chair by his desk and Rebel stretched out on the bed.

"Hey kiddo," he said in greeting, "What've you been up to today?"

"Andres, you're not my father so stop talking like you are," she muttered crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"Sorry, you wanna come in?" he apologized.

"Nah, but I need to ask you sumthin'.  Reb, I'd appreciate and answer from you too."

"Alright, what is it?" Rebel rolled onto his stomach and looked at her.

"Do you think I made the wrong decision in coming back here?"

"Maybe," Rebel said, "I mean Specs is in love wit' you and youse obviously in love wit' him, so I really think you shoulda stayed wit' him."

"For the last time I am _not in love_ with Specs!" she cried.

"Really?" Rebel asked, "Well for two people who ain't in love you sure was kissin' him an awful lot at that party.  You'd think you mighta chosen a place not so close to the closet."

Hotshot stood there in shock for a moment; she'd completely forgotten that Rebel and Lily had been in there.

"I think you'd be better off with the newsies than you are here, but that's just my opinion.  I really gotta go Black," he nodded to her brother, "Work starts early.  I'll talk to you tomorrow night." 

Blackjack grinned watching his friend use the window instead of the door.  Even after knowing them for over ten years he still liked the window better.  

"So Blackjack," she turned to her brother, "Do you think I made the right decision?"

Her brother stood and leaned against his desk.  "I think that's a decision you need to make on your own." His face held a serious expression, "But I also think that Dad and I could have made it just as well on our own.  If you decide you want to go back you've got me behind you one hundred percent."

Without a word she turned and walked back to her room.  She decided to sleep on it, knowing she'd give herself a major headache if she didn't.

Pickpocket wasn't around to talk to the next day, seeing as the meetings in Manhattan had started.  All the same Hotshot sat out on the front steps.  She listed to herself he pros and cons of going back to the newsies and staying with her father.  She thought of almost every thing that could go wrong and reasons for staying in either one.  By the time the sun set she had reached a decision.  

She was on her way downstairs as Blackjack and Rebel made their way up, laughing about some younger newsies who'd gotten into a fight near Rebel's apartment.  Both of them quieted a little when they saw her but no one said anything.  They continued on their way starting up a conversation again.  She walked down and entered the sitting room where her father was sitting, "Dad, can I talk to you?"

The older man took off his glasses and placed the pile of papers he was reading onto a table.  "Sure, what about?"

"Dad, I want to go be a newsie again."

He raised an eyebrow, "Absolutely not."

"Why not!"

"Because a young lady does not need to associate with dozens of teenage boys every day."

"You ain't my legal guardian anymore.  I can do this with or without your approval, but I want you to be behind me on this."

"Brooke, I know the way those boys think and act-"

"Exactly, c'mon Dad, why'd you stay a newsie so long if it wasn't a good way to live?"

"Brooke?"

"Just tell me why you were a newsie dad." She said, "I won't complain if you don't see my point."

"Alright," he agreed.

~*~*~Flashback~*~*~

            His parents had always sent him to the public school so he would associate with different kinds of people and not just the rich.  His best friends were the sons of those men who could barely afford to pay rent on their tenements, not the rich upper class boys.  Normally a few of these boys could be found around the house, which is where his father overheard a lot of information.

            One day the boys were lounging around and talking about their jobs.  One of them delivered packages, another worked in a restaurant, and yet another worked in a shoe factory.  

            "So why don't you got a job Chris?" one of them asked.

            "Don't need one," Christian commented, "When my dad retires I'm going to take over his firm.  We have money so I don't need to gat a job."

            It was this information that his father confronted him with several nights later.  "I want you to learn how to take care of yourself," he said, "I am handing the firm down to you but I do want you to have some kind of work experience.  Since you turn 14 at the beginning of next month I'm going to make you get that experience.  You will leave in the morning and support yourself for one month.  You'll need to get a job and supply yourself with food, clothes, and shelter.  At the end of that month come and see me.  You've got until then to find something you can do.

            A few days later Christian was walking the streets wondering what kind of job he could possibly do.  His clothes were layered with dirt, seeing as he'd just played a game of baseball with several friends at the park.  High society members of town looked at him as nothing more than a street rat when he dressed that way.  He was so lost in his train of thought that he didn't notice the boy in front of him.  The two fell to the ground as they collided, papers fell to the ground in a heap from the older boy's hands.

            "I'm sorry," Christian apologized quickly, "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

            The boy picked up his papers and stood, "Don' worry 'bout it.  I wasn't either."  Her went on his way.

            Christian pushed himself up and stood where he was for a minute, hairs on the back of his neck sticking up.  The boy he had just collided with was yelling out headlines.  That was it; he'd be a newsie!

            "Hey," he called catching up with the boy, "Who should I talk to about becoming a newsie?"

            The newsie finished selling a paper to an elderly gentleman.  "The leader," he said, "That is if you wanna sell here in Brooklyn."

            "Do you know where I can find him?"

            The newsie spat in his hand and extended it, "They call me Rusty.  You wanna be a newsie, meet me tomorrow at the distribution center over on Stockwell Road."

            Christian was at the distribution station early the next morning dressed in some of his less formal clothes.  Rusty introduced him around and bought him some papers.  For the next few days he personally took the younger boy around selling.  In a few short days he had already earned the nickname 'Brains' for winning an argument with Smarts, a newsie who was always ready with a sarcastic comment, and a for quoting Shakespeare to a few young ladies.

            He left home confident on the day his job search was supposed to start.  Having made many friends among the Brooklyn newsies he was welcomed at the lodging house.  He was taught fighting techniques as well as ones for selling.  He claimed a spot near his father's office but made sure to stay out of his father's sight.

            During weekend poker games he began joining the fights.  Two boys would start by throwing insults at one another and then a fistfight would eventually start.  He nearly always won.  By the time the month was over he was selling over a hundred papers a day and looked more like one of the newsies.  His skin was tanned from spending so much time outside and his muscles showed more from fighting and exercise.  He'd also managed to pick up the street accent of New York.

            One morning he rose early and made it to the front steps of his house just as his father was leaving for work.  "Buy a pape mista?" he asked.

            At first his father didn't notice who it was but as he looked up to pay he recognized his son's face.  That night he moved home and celebrated his success with his family.

            After school he continued to work with the newsies and often spent weekends and vacations at the lodging house.  His fighting improved, as well as his accent.  Sometimes it was enough to bother his father.  How did he look with a son who spoke in street dialogue at his dinner parties?

            Christian had just barely graduated and was seventeen when Rusty announced he was leaving.  No one was surprised by the news seeing as Rusty was nearly twenty-three and too old to be selling.  They were more surprised, however, when Rust picked Brains to take his place as leader.  Some of the newsies who had resented Brains for his rich parents argued but Rusty pointed out that Brains was tougher and smarter than most of them.  He'd keep the Brooklyn territory from being invaded.

            Brains moved into the lodging house permanently because of this.  He visited his mother's small dress shop every afternoon and went to dinner with them once a week but spent most of his time with the newsies.  He was a natural at being leader.  All of the boys respected him and followed his orders.  New newsies were trained and years passed.  When he was eighteen Brains met a young woman who had just arrived from Spain.  He spent time with her and she often came by the lodging house so everyone knew her.  Christian was reluctant to leave the newsies after they were married but decided it was for the best.  He left a younger newsie named Dock in charge.

            Even though he was married and working at the firm Brains couldn't stay away.  He found time to go visit the newsies on weekends and left his office door open to any of them.  If Dock sent for him he tried to make it down to the docks later with advise.  Once when he was there he noticed two young boys who were new to the newsies.  The two didn't look alike but he could tell they were close.  He didn't realize that he was looking at the two future leaders of Brooklyn.  As time passed the visits grew less frequent, as did Dock's visits to his office.  He thought they might have forgotten him.  At the trial for Alexander Thomas' murder, however, there were dozens of newsies sitting outside and all of them screamed headlines that proclaimed he was innocent.

~*~*~End Flashback~*~*~

            "So you see why I have to go back!" Hotshot yelled.

            "Brooke, I don't want you being a newsie again."

            "Dad, the entire time we were growing up you told me an' Andres about how great it was being a newsie.  I lived it for the past ten years Dad, and it was even better than you described it.  You were twenty-one before you left.  Why should I be any different?  I want to enjoy it as long as I can."

            Her father sighed, "Alright, you can sell in Brooklyn."

            "No, it has to be in Manhattan."  She spoke calmly.

            "Why?" her father asked, "If you sold in Brooklyn you could stay here."

            "Dad I don't want to stay here.  I want to take care of myself and not depend on you for everything."

            "What else?" he asked, seeing there was something more behind her decision.

            "There's this guy Specs there.  I really like him Dad.  Blink, Rebel, Pickpocket, an' Andres all say I love him.  I don' know if I love him, but I really like him.  It killed me to tell him I wasn't going back to Manhattan after the trial ended."

            Her father sighed and thought for a moment, "Alright, but I want you to come back here and visit your brother and I occasionally."

            "I will.  I'll spend the day here tomorrow, but I wanna be back there by Friday morning."

            She hugged her father and the two spent the rest of the night going over 'the rules'.  He wanted her to visit the house often, be there on holidays, and to not get I trouble.  She agreed with his facts and in return asked that the newsies be allowed to hide there when the bulls were after them and that the kitchen door would stay unlocked.  There was also a small series of other things that needed to be done.  But in the end they agreed on everything and a plan was set up.

            She walked upstairs to find her brother and Rebel still sitting in his room, in a similar arrangement to the previous night.  She leaned against the wall near the door with a smirk on her face; one similar to the one Spot usually wore.

            "Don't plot," Blackjack told her, "Leave that to the professionals.  We got an idea about how to get you out and selling, alright?"

            "Forget it," she muttered.

            "What!?  We'se been up here all night tryin' ta think of these!" he exclaimed, "You don' even wanna hear them!"

            She rolled her eyes and glanced at Rebel, as if to ask 'is he always like this?'.  

            Rebel laughed and nodded.  As he stopped he kept his gaze on her and became serious.  With a grin he spoke, "He said you could go back, didn't he?"

            She nodded.

            "You're going back.  Good Brooklyn needs more people like you…"  Andres rambled off about how much fun she'd have in Brooklyn.

            "Shut up Andres, she's goin' back to Manhattan."

            Hotshot nodded in agreement with Rebel as the older boy opened the window to leave.  "Goin' back Friday morning."

            "I'm glad youse goin' back." Her brother said once Rebel was gone, "You seem depressed around here.  You'll do better with the newsies anyway."

            "I guess I will." She agreed.

            As she lay in bed that night Hotshot had new things to think of.  She hadn't seen Specs on the streets in the past several days.  There was no way of telling if this was a good or bad sign.  It could mean that he was angry with her for what she said, personally she couldn't blame him.  On the other hand he could just want to give her time to think.  She hoped it was the latter of the two reasons.  No one had brought her news about him so there was no way to know.

            The next morning Rosa took her shopping again.  With her leaving her father wanted to be sure she had the proper clothes for the oncoming winter.  She already had enough shirts and pants.  She picked up a jacket, a few pairs of socks, some gloves that she would probably never use, and a new pair of boots.

            While Hotshot complained that she would never dress up Rosa insisted on buying a nice blouse and a simple skirt.  Rosa complained that she should at least look a little more ladylike if she went to Irving Hall or somewhere else nice with any of the boys.

            Hotshot tried to explain that they expected her to dress like them but the woman would not hear of it.  Hotshot reluctantly tried on a few and settled on one similar to the color of her dress for the party.  She warned the older woman that it was the last thing that was going in her bag and was only returned with a glare.

            She'd expected to spend the night with her father, but it seemed he had other plans.  He described them to her and she made her way up to her brother's room before releasing her surprised laughter.

            "What's so funny?" Andres asked, for the first time all week his Room was not occupied by Rebel.

            "Blackjack, When do you think the last time Dad was on a date was?"

            "When he was going with Mom." Blackjack said.

            Hotshot leaned on his desk smiling; "He and Rosa are going to dinner tonight."

            Blackjack grinned, "They're going on a date."

            "So do you like Rosa?" she asked her brother seeing as he had not known her for very long.

            He nodded, "So far.  She reminds me of Mom a little, you know, before Pulitzer.  That and she got you out of Joe's house a bunch of times."

            Hotshot laughed, "She's almost as bad as me, you, or Mom used to be when she gets mad though.  Screaming in Spanish.  I think she's staying here since she quit at Pulitzer's.  Maybe we'll have a mom again."

            "Maybe," her brother agreed, "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?  You need to be up early enough to catch them at the lodging house tomorrow."

            She rolled her eyes but left the room.  She made her way slowly to her room and pulled everything she needed out of her closet.  The bag for her personal belongings was the same one she'd brought to Manhattan from Brooklyn so it was small enough.  She put the skirt and blouse in to make Rosa happy, then two pairs of pants and sets of shirts, socks, etc.  Pictures and her pocket watch were slipped into a small bag that she was bringing along for her savings.  By this time there was barely any room left in her bag.  She dropped the gloves in to give to one of the boys and a deck of cards she'd bought the previous day.

            Another tomorrow to think about.  Was Specs mad at her or thinking she was mad at him?  How did the other guys feel?  Was Blink even out of the hospital?  She'd have to tell Spot she was staying in Manhattan too. Oh, that would be a fun task.  She'd explain to them why she was back, and why she left them for that matter.  As these thoughts flooded her mind it became harder and harder to try to sleep.  She played a few games of Solitaire as she would at the lodging house.  At the end of the second game she remembered one last thing she had to bring back.  She quickly pulled a book out of her bookcase and forced it into the bag.  The book Specs had lent her to read, The Three Musketeers.  He'd probably want it back.  Once she was sure the book was safely tucked away she lay back down.

            Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

            A/N:  I probably won't have much of an author note for this one and I don't have the time or energy to see who reviewed and do shout-outs.  For those people who did, thank you.  Again feel free to IM me if you see me online.

            The next few chapters are gonna have a lot of ups and downs in them.  I know how this is gonna end but I need to work out a few things first.  I would, as always love your input especially in the form of a review.  My stupid school board is making us all go back to school and I am being forced to go out and look for a job so I may not have as much time anymore.  

Though I love this story dearly and do not want it to end I am trying to finish it quickly for you.  I would love to break one hundred reviews before I do so.  At this point I only need 20 more reviews to do so.  And I promise shout-outs in the next few chapters if you do review.  Hope you all are having a happy new year!  And that you liked this chapter!

_~Hotshot~~~_


	32. Unwelcomed Returns

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter 32

By Hotshot

            Her father had insisted on giving her a ride to Manhattan the next morning.  She protested greatly.  The carriage her father had brought out would only allow the boys more reasons to shun her if they were mad at her.  It was another signal of how much things had changed.  In her father's time if a newsie got a ride in a carriage he was considered talented.  In the present times however it was a sign to be wary and that the person was not trustworthy.  They'd be suspicious of her for months.

            She'd been told her entire life that her stubbornness came form her mother, but that day it seemed that her father was more stubborn than she was.  She gave up, probably because of the early hour.  She hugged her brother, her father, and Rosa before climbing into the carriage.  Blackjack helped her up whispering that she was in for it next time Brooklyn and Manhattan met for a poker night.  She only rolled her eyes.

            "Blackjack, I could beat you any day, any time." She retorted.

            "You sure about that."  He smirked, "I had a few years with nuthin' ta do except practice."          

            "Practice don't mean nuthin' around here.  Next poker night, you, me, Race, Royal, and Ace."

            He spit in his palm, "I'll be there."

            She repeated his action and they shook on it.  He shut the door to the carriage and nodded to the driver.  

            Hotshot leaned back against the seat letting her bag drop harmlessly to the floor.  She waved unenthusiastically to everyone as the driver cracked the whip over the horses back.  The carriage started to bounce along over the cobblestone roads.  She sunk as low as possible in her seat.  Despite the early hour there were already plenty of people out on the street, including several newsies whom she would never hear the end of this from.  

            As they reached the Brooklyn Bridge she sat up straight in her seat.  In Brooklyn her actions would undoubtedly be frowned upon by most, but Manhattan and around Spot was a different story.  If you didn't take pride in your appearance or if you weren't able to live with anything you were often shunned.  She sat and looked out the window.  Nuns were setting up their stand to feed the hungry orphans of New York, and numerous shop owners were on their ways to their places of business.  A scowl crossed her face as she watched Pulitzer climb out of his elegant coach and walked proudly up the stairs of the World building.  

            Weasel was throwing his nephews out the gates of the distribution center to stir up some trouble before the newsies arrived for the day.  Oscar caught her eye and nodded in recognition with a scowl on his face, followed by an obscene hand gesture that she gladly returned. 

            She could hear the yelling more than a block before the lodging house.  It was too muffled to be out of the building yet but all the same it was familiar and made her feel at home.  She had never been more terrified in her entire life.   This was the unknown; she had no idea if they all hated her or were just waiting for her to come to her senses.  They turned onto Duane Street and she reached for the drawstring of her bag.  The coach stopped in front of the lodging house.

            Boys erupted out of the door in a steady stream of older and younger, singing, yelling, and dancing.  Basically they were warming up for the day of selling, led by Jack and an ever-present Spot.  The front of the group stopped as they sighted the carriage causing those behind them to run into them.  The group quickly dispersed n front of the lodging house, forming a large crowd.  

            Hotshot took a deep breath and stepped out to the door, and down to the first step.  She slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced around at the crowd of newsies.  She knew every face there, and each pair of eyes seemed to be focused directly upon her.  No one moved and for some reason the entire city seemed to pick that exact moment to fall silent.  She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a several seconds.  None of them dared to so much as blink, waiting for her to make the first move.  

            Finally Hotshot sighed.  She took another step down.  One more step and she'd be standing on the cold cobblestone streets.  She took a deep breath and spoke, "How's it rollin' fellas?" she asked with a serious expression on her face.

            "Depends on who's askin'." Jack countered, looking her over with a long hard gaze.  He was trying to intimidate her, but that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

            "Well I heard there was an opening in this lodging house and I'se lookin' for a place to stay so I can sell me papes 'round here." She said, meeting his gaze.  Jack said nothing in response.  Hotshot looked around the area again.  Her eyes moved over the faces of her friends, some smiling, some still looking serious.  Her eyes came to rest on Kid Blink.  He didn't seem to know how to look.  It looked like he wanted to smile but was worried.  "How ya doin' Blink?" she asked, "Been out a the hospital 'bout a week.  How ya feelin'?"

            This brought smiles to many of the other boys' faces.  That was all it took.  She had to connect with them on something form before, Kid Blink's illness being a perfect example.  She didn't know how so many of them forgave her so easily.  

            Kid Blink grinned, "I'se feelin' great.  But I'se gotta complain; it's about time you got yourself back here."

            Jack stepped forward, "He's right.  C'mon let's throw your stuff inside so we'se can go sell."

Hotshot's eyes quickly scanned her friends and landed on the pair of eyes she'd been trying to find; Specs'.  His eyes were usually warm and inviting, but now they were rock hard, and cold.  While most of the other boys were relaxed and happily moving toward her, he stood there stiffly.  His mouth was set in a frown and he watched her just as carefully as she watched him.  Their eyes connected for several seconds.  He shook his head not breaking eye contact, then turned and began to make his way through the boys behind him and down the street to the distribution center.

She jumped down from the step ready to chase after him, "Specs!" she called out.  He ignored her and kept walking.  She tried to make her way through the crowd but Race, Dutchy, and Bumlets stopped her.

"Don't go after him Hotshot," Race said.

She turned to Bumlets and he only nodded, "He took you leavin' real hard…"

"He's upset," Dutchy picked up, "He'll come to his senses, just give him some time." 

She glanced stubbornly after him for another moment before following the remaining boys inside.  Jack, Race, Spot, Kid Blink, Bumlets, Pickpocket and Dutchy had stayed to wait with her.  Jack sent everyone else ahead to the distribution center.  Hotshot tossed her bag onto her bunk, which seemed to have not been touched since she'd left.  

Spot blocked her path when she turned to leave the room; everyone else was on their way down the stairs by this time.  "There ain't no way I can get youse back to Brooklyn?" he asked.

"No Spot," she replied, "I belong here now."

"What if Specs don't want you back?"  When she gave him a look he continued, "You may not realize that he's the reason you came back but he is?  What'll you do if he hates you?"

As the two walked outside she looked at him, "How many days did I stay in Brooklyn when you were pissed at me, Spot?  How many times did you threaten to kill me?  I never left and I'm happy here Spot.  It feels like home now.  But don't worry I'll visit."

He nodded, "As long as you're sure.  Me an' Pickpocket are goin' back tonight."

The group reached the gates just as they opened and Jack pulled hotshot with him to the front of the line.  She tried to swat him away by claiming that she didn't want the attention.  Jack, being who he was ignored any plea that left her lips.  He was the only newsie he allowed in front of her.  He bought his papes, teasing Weasel as he did so.  

"Act one, scene two," Hotshot muttered under her breath.  She stepped up to the spot Jack had occupied seconds earlier and looked Weasel dead in the face.  She noticed the two Delancy's freeze behind Weasel.

"I thought we got rid a you for good last time." The old man snapped.

"You'll be gone long before I am Weasel," she smirked, "I mean youse just gonna be so old and ugly by then that they'll put you in jail for being obscene in public."

"How many?" Only on the second newsie the man's temper was already short.  This was not starting out as a good day.

She rolled her eyes, "A hundred."  She slapped the fifty-cent piece down on the counter and waited as Maurice piled all the papers on the counter.  She sat down o a crate near the door and looked through the headlines for something salvageable.  She rolled her eyes at the awful headlines that Pulitzer's writers came up with.  "Why do we work for the World?" she asked Race.

He shrugged, "Closest to the lodging house, I guess."  

Specs walked past them not even giving either a second look.  Hotshot bit her lip to keep from yelling something after him.  Kid Blink came up to her, "You want a selling partner today?"

"Sure," she said.  She, Race and Kid Blink walked off in the general direction of Central Park.  She snuck another glance over at Specs and Bumlets, who seemed to be waiting for the remainder of their group to go sell.  They reached the park and began yelling headlines, all of which were greatly improved.

Selling was slow in the early morning but picked up quickly as the morning progressed.  Hotshot didn't blame people for coming out later.  Being early November it was starting to be cool in the mornings.  It warmed up during the day but evening and early morning weren't as warm as they had been all summer.  She'd actually _need_ that jacket Rosa had bought her pretty soon.  Of course not until it was blistering cold, she was very stubborn about not wearing a coat.  She sold out before eleven and spent the next hour and a half stealing and selling Race and Blink's extra papers.   They were done around the time all the guys would be heading to Tibby's for some lunch and then out to sell the afternoon edition.

"C'mon fellas, let's go grab some lunch!" she yelled.  She took off in the general direction of Tibby's, seriously starving and craving some of their food.  She didn't notice Race and Blink exchange a glance behind her as they ran to catch up to her.

They'd slowed down by the time they got to the diner.  Race was trying to tell them about the hot tip he had for that afternoon's races, but Blink was in the process of telling a joke as well.  They were all laughing as they entered the diner; Hotshot was leaning on Blink to keep form falling over.  Race stumbled over the floor, which remarkable was completely flat.  You never would have guessed form the way he stumbled across it.

            Blink and Race spotted the problem reasonably quickly.  They immediately stopped laughing and straitened, not quite staring but worried.

            Hotshot quickly noticed that the two boys weren't laughing anymore.  She also seemed to notice that the diner was almost deathly silent.  She straightened up and stopped her laughter, looking between Race and Blink, "What'sa matter?"  Her eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in front of her.  All thoughts of lunch were forgotten and the hunger that had occupied her stomach was replaced by a sick feeling.

            At one of the center booths sat Specs with Hummingbird sitting with him, as close to him as possible.  Specs was looking at her with the same cold look in his eyes as that morning.  Hummingbird's was colder, if that was possible, but there was also some sick satisfaction in her eyes.  She leaned forward and kissed Specs passionately.  He kissed her back.  Hotshot turned on her heel and stormed out of Tibby's.

            Noise erupted as the boor slammed shut behind her.  She could hear it and knew it would count against her.  If it had been any other guy that started going out with Hummingbird Hotshot would have slapped him.  But it was Specs.  She would also lose for not saying anything. She'd never backed down form a sarcastic remark and she would surely get something for it later.  She quickened her place to get back to the distribution center.  Weasel looked surprised to see her back so early but said nothing as he handed her the papers she paid for.  

            Hotshot stalked out of the small area and began to walk down a sidewalk.  She thought that she felt tears forming behind her eyes but would not allow them to fall for _him_.  She bit her lip and dug her nails into her palm.  Controlling her feelings was much easier than trying to deal with this emotionally.  When she trusted herself she began to yell headlines.  

            She'd been selling for several minutes she heard the familiar sets of footsteps behind her.  "I ain't in the mood today boys."  She turned to face the Delancy brothers.

            Oscar grinned, "Don't worry Hotshot.  We just heard that guy a yours dumped you for a pretty little thing that actually wears dresses.  We gots some friends who might be interested in ya though.  I mean I'm sure one of us could clear our busy schedules and take you somewhere."  

            She was definitely not in the mood for this right now; she was in a bad enough mood as it was.  But even as she sighed her mind was working on coming up with a comeback.  She could take it out on the Delancy's.

            "Oh, so when I break up with Specs I'm supposed to go out with trash like you.  Well, let me tell you sumthin' then.  I wouldn't go anywhere with either of you if we were the last three people on this planet.  In my eyes you're as ugly as hell, just like that uncle a yours.  I swear your whole family is ugly, it must be hereditary-"

            "You know you're talkin' 'bout Snoddy too right?" Maurice said, hoping to trap her in her words.  

            "Nah, I meant your mother's side, y'know Weasel's sister.  He's the only one who got your dad's good looks, and the only one with brains too now that I think of it.  And, yes, that is another insult.  An' I ain't armed but you can try your luck at a fight if you wanna take this out like that, but don't say I didn't warn you.  I'se pissed, so prepare to lose."

            Angered by the comments Maurice charged her, the stupider of the two.  At the last second she stepped to the side leaving her fist to hit him hard in the stomach.  Oscar was actually living up to his somewhat superior intelligence.  He dodged her punches as he advanced and tried to land one of his own.  But she ducked and he slammed his fist into a brick wall.  "You wanna keep tryin' 'cause I got all afternoon."

            "Hey!  Hey! Scram ya scabs!" She heard the calls behind her and sighed.  She really needed a way to relieve some stress.  Knowing even the Delancy's wouldn't be stupid enough to attack her with the other newsies there she turned to see who it was.  Dutchy, Specs, Snoddy, Skittery, Bumlets, Pie, Blink, Pickpocket, and Spot were coming down the somewhat hilly road.  She groaned as they came up and stopped near her.  

            "Go on," Spot snapped, "Scram!"  

            The two just nodded and Oscar spoke, "Heya Specs, you sure you don't want us to take care of the little girl for ya?"  He raised an eyebrow and then nodded at his younger brother.  

            "How ya doin' Rich." Maurice spoke with an edge to his voice.  Snoddy only glared back.

            "I said Move!" Spot repeated his command.

            Maurice walked by first, but Oscar couldn't resist another second of torturing her.  He slapped Hotshot's butt as hard a s he could when he passed her.  She tried to launch herself at him, fists raised, but Dutchy and Bumlets were there to hold her back.  The brothers sped up their pace.

            "It's your first day back and you're fighting already," Spot lectured her, "What were you thinking?" 

            She stared back at him with a cold glare that plainly stated she was angry or upset.  "They couldn't have touched me.  Now if you'll excuse me I have papes to sell."  She picked up the pile of papers that she'd dropped during the fight.  She quickly made her way past them and out into a crowded section of the streets.  She yelled headlines until her last paper was sold.  

            The lodging house wasn't quite full when she got back.  Several of the boys called out to her to get her to join poker games.  They were trying to take her mind off the days events and everyone, including her, knew it.  She nodded and had a few brief conversations before making her way up to the bunkroom.  

            She laughed as she spotted Bumlets, who had Race in a headlock.  It was funny how some things never changed.  The two were seeming arguing about a newspaper article and the ownership of a fake headline.  Kid Blink was perched on his nearby bunk, laughing and cheering them on.  He nearly fell off his bunk and landed on Mush several times as Hotshot watched.  It was good to see that he was doing better since the last time those two boys had wrestled like that.  They'd have to be careful about any of the boys getting sick that winter.

            After several minutes she climbed onto the fire escape and up to the roof. Sure she'd had plenty of time to calm down after seeing Specs but she wasn't in the mood for all the guys to try to cheer her up.  She took a seat on one of the ledges and looked out over the city.

            "What the hell are you doin' up there?" Spot yelled as he saw her from the ground. 

            "Sittin'!" she yelled back.

            Without another word he walked into the building.  She didn't hear him until he was a few feet behind her. He leaned against the ledge backwards.  There was a wall that came to about any newsies waist, or a little higher depending on their height.  Hotshot sat on the top of it.  Spot threw a lit cigarette down to the ground below.  The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments.  "You know you can come back to Brooklyn any time you want," he finally said.

            "I know," she replied.

            "I'se real sorry you had to find out about Specs an' Hummin'boid like that."  Spot turned to face her, "I would have told you, but you just love him so much, I thought it'd kill you."

            "Why does everyone have this idea that I love him?" She shouted at Spot, "I honestly don't Spot."

            "Ok," he shrugged, "You don't have to admit it now but I know you do.  I'll talk to you next time I come to Manhattan, but if you're in Brooklyn before that drop by.  An' say hello to Canada for me next time you see her.  Tell her to come visit."  He kissed Hotshot's cheek in a brotherly manner, "Later."  

            She hugged him quickly, "Bye Spot."

            He didn't say anything, just strolled to the trapdoor that led down into the building.  It was considerably darker when she heard two sets of footsteps coming up.  She didn't turn around until they stopped behind her, "Hey guys."

            Kid Blink and Race stopped on either side of her, both trying to figure out what to say.  Race was the first to thank of something, "I guess we should have told you."  

            "Yeah, that might have been a better idea," Hotshot mumbled, "I mean of all people why Hummingbird!?"  

    "'Cause you left." Race said simply, "You told him you couldn't be wit' him and he needed someone to fill youse space.  Hummingbird was just waiting right there to replace you."

"But she told me I was crazy for picking specs over Spot the first time I met her."  

Race shrugged, "Well, other than the fact that Spot has a goil now it might have to do with the fact that he was your guy, and she wanted revenge." 

Kid blink spoke for the first time all night, "He wanted revenge too."

"Huh?" Race asked.

"Think about it.  Brooke you dropped him just like that and I know you didn't want to but I think he needed someone to take your place and make you jealous if you came back for anything.  And, well, Hummingbird is sort of your biggest enemy so she was the perfect choice."

"You know, out of everyone here I'd expect him to understand why I had to go back more than anyone else."  Hotshot threw a small stone at a teenager passing on the streets below, but missed.  "I lost my best friend."

"You still got us," Race said grinning, "We'll stick by you, I swear."

"Thanks guys, that means a lot after what happened."

"You know you changed a lot since you came here," Blink pointed out.  "When you first got here all you ever talked about was Brooklyn and how you couldn't wait to go back.  And now look at you, movin' in here permanently."

Hotshot shrugged, "Yeah, it's kinda weird.  I really thought I couldn't feel like I belonged anywhere other than Brooklyn but then I came here and everything just went so well.  It got so hard to decide because I have friends in both places.  I've known the guys in Brooklyn years longer and I still feel more like I belong here.  I don't know why."

"It's because a Specs." Race said.

"All a you and him maybe." She responded.

"You should have told him you loved him."  Kid Blink whispered.

Hotshot spun to face him, "Why does everyone keep saying that.  Read my lips Blink.  I. Don't. Love. Him."  She made each word it's own sentence to try and emphasis the fact.  "Why can't you all just process that thought in your minds.  I don't love Specs."

"Then what were you so upset about today?" The expression n Kid Blink's face was unreadable as he spoke.  He turned and silently started back to the fire escape, "We'll give you some time to think."  The two of them had disappeared from her sight a moment later.  

Hotshot pushed a pile of rocks or the ledge in frustration.  Four stories below she heard someone shout.  She saw Swifty as she looked over the edge.  It seemed he'd jumped to avoid most of the falling debris.  "Sorry Swifty!" she called down.  Then she thought about it, "but it serves you right for bring late for curfew!"

Swifty's reply only made her laugh, and she made her way back into the bunkroom.  Race was orchestrating a rather large game of poker while many of the other boys were stashing their day's earnings in various places.  Hotshot found it amazing that a few beds were actually free.  It had been months since the lodging house hadn't been full to the brink with Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies, but now the last of them were gone.  Hotshot walked over to her bunk to look through her things.  The first thing she did was take Specs' book out of her bag and drop it at the foot of his bed.  

He came into the room just as Kloppman was making his way upstairs to tell them all to go to bed.  Specs stopped when he saw Hotshot.  "I'm going to spend the night in Harlem." He said as he turned to leave.  

"No Specs," Hotshot said, "You stay here.  I'll move somewhere else."  She threw her bag over her shoulder and walked past him out of the room.  Kloppman raised an eyebrow as she walked into one of the sick rooms and dropped her bag on the solitary bed in the corner.  Hothsot stuck her head out into the hall and locked eyes with Specs, "There." Was all she said before closing the door.  She heard several voices even after the lights were all out.  

Hotshot rolled over thinking back on the day's events.  She'd only been back one day but it felt like she'd been there for years.  She'd come back to have everyone, except her best friend forgive her for leaving.  Found her that same best friend who was supposed to care about her making out with her worst enemy, and gotten into a fight with the Delancy's.  Spot was gone and most of her friends were giving her space.  Sure, she acted like that was what she wanted but it really wasn't.  She wanted to be around people, and now Specs was so pissed at her that he didn't even want her in the same room as him.  

She rolled out of bed to get a drink from the washroom.  Several boys merely glanced at her as she passed their bunks.  On the way back she spotted Specs reading the book she'd left using a single candle for light.  He looked up as her shadow passed over him.  When their eyes met his were unreadable, but he closed the book and blew out the candle in his hand.

Hotshot returned to her room to think some more.  Things had not gone at all as she had hoped they would.  She wished things could go back to the way they had been before the trial.  Then the world would be perfect, but she knew that was not going to happen.  She felt so much more experienced than she'd thought of herself as being.  Her remainder of time with the newsies was going to be short, but she had to make the best of it. This thing with Specs would blow over, it had to.  And if not, well, it was his loss, not hers.    

(A/N):  I am so sorry it's taken me so long to get another chapter up, it's just that I've had a ton of homework lately and other than that I'm starting drivers ed, got a babysitting job, and am looking for a real one.  One of my friends is mad 'cause I don't spend enough time with her too.  This is one of the last chapters to this story.  I don't know if there will be one or two more; we'll have to see how it goes when I'm writing it.  I may or may not leave an author note chapter at the end, and I may do a sequel as well.  

You guys have all been great.  I only need nine more reviews to reach the one hundred mark.  Thank you so much!  I really need to start on my homework so there will be no shout outs I this chapter but I will thank you all in my next author note.  Well, I can't think of anything else to say so I hope you all like this chapter, don't forget to review.

~Hotshot~~~


	33. New Days and Perfection

Past Secrets and Present Times

Chapter33

By Hotshot

            Kloppman was at her door early the next morning.  He knocked and then opened the door quietly telling her to get up.  "You want a shower before I wake all the boys up?"

            "No," she told him, "Don't treat me any different Kloppman.  I'm the same person as before and as soon as Specs gets over his ego I'll be back in the bunkroom with the fellas."

            "Very good," the old man sad before shutting the door.  Hotshot looked at her pocket watch, which lay open on the table next to her bed.  It was barely five thirty.  Most of the newsies would have protested until Kloppman poked them with his broom but she smiled at the thought of having to get up and work.  She threw off the thin sheet and searched around on the floor for her clothes.  She dug out the dark green shirt from under the bed and threw it on.  Through some miracle she made it to the washroom before Kloppman came back up to wake everyone else.  

            The shouting was no more than the usual rate and soon they all began to file into the room, most still half-asleep.  Dutchy's hair was sticking up at an odd angle as he stumbled in and absentmindedly began searching for an unknown object.  Hotshot wet a comb and ran it through his hair before splashing him in the face.  That woke him up immediately.  She casually walked out of the room listening to him yell threats after her.

            The boys got ready at their usual pace and were actually awake by the time they bounced out the doors of the lodging house.  Hotshot was waiting outside as they came and joined the group on their trek to the distribution station.  

            Weasel was in a foul a mood as ever but the Delancy's seemed to be enjoying themselves a considerable amount.  No one could probably ever really tell why the two were in a good mood, and no one really cared to find out either.

            "Heya Sweetface," Oscar reached forward as Weasel handed her the hundred papers she'd asked for. 

            "Hey Oscar, let's make a deal." She smirked.

            "Sure, what?"

            "You touch me again an' I'll break your face."  She turned and walked away as he stood there too shocked to speak.  When he regained his thoughts he yelled after her.

            She stopped again outside the gates, reading over what she had to work with.  Her glance strayed from the headlines to the newsies around her.  They landed on Dutchy and Specs, who seemed to be arguing over something.  She stood near the wall until Bumlets came out.  She caught his arm as he passed, "You sellin' at Bottle Alley today?"

            He glanced quickly over at Specs and then returned his gaze to her, "Yeah, you up for it?" He jerked his head in Specs' general direction.

            She knew exactly what he was implying and nodded, "The best way to get out your frustration is to scream at the top of your lungs for an hour or two."

            "Let's go then."  

            The two started toward that end of Manhattan but were stopped when Oscar stepped in front of them.  "Heya Hotshot, how ya doin'?"

            She bit her lip to keep a retort from flying back at him.  She shoved him out of the way and watched as he began to come after them.

            "Hey!" A loud yell stopped them all in their tracks.  "Lay off," Dutchy yelled at Oscar.  Specs was standing next to him looking angrier than ever.

            Hotshot took Bumlets' arm and pulled him along with her to get away from everyone.  When they reached the crowded marketplace she began screaming headlines in both English and Spanish.  Bumlets smirked as he watched her screaming headlines.  It didn't take a genius to know she was pissed off.  Specs needed to think about what he was doing.  He would come to his senses eventually; Bumlets had known him long enough to know that.  He yelled a headline loudly in German and began walking through the crowds after her.

            They sold out in a few hours, trading their last few papers to a vendor for few cheap pencils.  Bumlets stuck them in his pocket promising to give hers back at the lodging house.  They started the walk to Tibby's joking about Race's poker game the night before.  Obviously Race had lost almost all of his money while telling them several jokes, particularly horrible ones mostly.

            Bumlets fell silent as they reached the door to the diner, "We can always go somewhere else if you want?"

            As much as Hotshot appreciated the offer she didn't accept.  If Specs wanted to be an ass toward her for the mistake she'd made, let him, but she wasn't going to let it ruin her life.  "Nah, let's go in.  If either of them say anything though I'se gonna tell 'em off."

            Bumlets winced at the thought but reluctantly held a door open for her.  The two made their way inside to find most of the other newsies were already there.  Specs and Hummingbird were sitting together again, except that this time she was sitting in his lap.  Hotshot made her way past them seeing Kid Blink and Mush waving to her from a nearby table.  As she neared their table Hummingbird kissed Specs.  Unfortunately the only seat at the table was near Specs' table, but she only waved Kid Blink's offer away when he stood to let her take his chair.

            "Ya know," Race said a few minutes later, "we came here ta eat, not watch you two make out all afternoon."

            "Just because you ain't getting' any doesn't mean we aren't allowed to enjoy ourselves," Hummingbirds voice held a superior tone that Hotshot hated, "Why don't you ask that slut to help you out in that department."

            Hotshot balled her hands into fists and stood up slowly, turning to face the girl who was insulting her and her friends.  She took two steps so that she was at the tables end and looked Hummingbird in the face, "What did you call me?"

            "A slut, it's what you are.  Why do you even bother trying to hide it anymore?"

            "Hotshot," Spot had entered the diner just in time to see the beginning of the display, his voice held an authoritive tone.  Hotshot shrugged him off and turned her attention back to the couple in front of her.  She'd wanted to scream the both of them since she got back, and wasn't going to let herself be sidetracked.  The comments she had were all surfacing.

            "There is no I in slut, but there is a u." she smirked as Hummingbird caught the meaning, "Other than that I have absolutely no idea what your problem is?"

            "Do you mean my hating people who are as ugly and as careless as you?  Please, you just dropped two different guys without a second thought, and now come back here expecting everyone to love you again."

            "From the girl who can't find her own guy that's particularly surprising," Hotshot raised an eyebrow.  

            "Excuse me!"

            "Well, let's think for a minute.  The last two guys you've gone after have been ex-boyfriends of mine.  And as for the hating ugly people you should probably avoid looking in mirrors if you're so hateful."

            "Or I could just avoid looking at you."

            "Go ahead, but it's only because you're jealous."

            Hummingbird let out a laugh, "Why on earth would I be jealous of someone like you?"

            Hotshot grinned as she heard several of the boys groan behind her.  She'd been hoping Hummingbird would ask.  "Listen and listen good Hummingbird, I have something that you will never have, respect.  You see when I walk into a room people actually want my opinion on things, and want to know me.  These guys notice me because I am one of them, not some girl selling herself to any guy who looks twice at her, but a girl who can think for herself.   You on the other hand need to come in here with either a guy on your arm, or with that sad excuse for a dress, flocked by your entourage to even be noticed.  And even then you're thrown aside as soon as a better-looking girl comes around.  Then we factor in the fact that I am smart.  Sure, you may have grown up on the streets but I did too, so we both have street smarts but only I still managed to graduate from school.  You may be able to outdo me in fashion, but I can beat you in so much more.  I could outrun or outfight you, and I could turn you into some kind of monster if I described you with _one_ of your character flaws.  Sure I left the newsies to go home with my father but I came back.  If you had the chance to have that much money I bet you'd never be heard from again.  At least I have some class."

            "Well at least I've got you beat in the beauty department," Hummingbird sneered, "That's what guys are looking for, a wife to do housework, and wear a dress like any normal woman."

            "I'm afraid not.  I may not look like some picturesque wife in my newsie clothes but you were at the party the other night.  You saw me.  I walked into that room and everyone, even those who hated me, wanted to talk to me.  How many even looked up when you came in?  I have nothing to prove, but you should admit it, you're just scared."

            "I have no reason to be scared of you." Hummingbirds scowl deepened.

            Hotshot leaned closer to the couple, "You should be.  Trust me I would have no problem informing everyone in this city of just how horrible and manipulative you are."  She turned to Specs, "And as for you.  Well, I have to say I'm disappointed.  I didn't think you were the kind of guy who needed to get revenge on everyone who did something he didn't agree with.  What the hell happened to standing up for your friends?    When she just insulted Race, what did you do, absolutely nothing.  At least when we were dating you'd stand up for them, if I insulted someone you'd tell me off unless you knew I was just joking.  I don't know what the hell happened to you, but you need to grow up."

            They both sat in silence staring at her.  Specs' face looked calm, and his eyes only mirrored her reflections, not revealing any of what he was feeling.  Hummingbird's sneer was probably the only thing that bothered her.

            Hotshot turned back to the girl, "You need to get over your ego and as for what class and taste you may think you have, let me be the one to tell you, you don't.  You frame your life around getting revenge on those people you don't agree with and don't act and look exactly like you.  I will never be a carbon copy of something so awful, and eventually those friends of yours are going to leave.  Overall, your ways are going to ruin your life.  The last thing I have to say to you is that I hope I'm around when it finally happens."  She turned on her heel and strode out the door, not once looking over her shoulder to see the looks on their faces.  They all watched as she turned toward the distribution center and disappeared from sight.

            The diner remained filled with a deafening silence for several minutes.  Hummingbird was the first to speak.  To Specs she said, "Don't worry, she's just jealous."

            Specs turned and looked at her, a look of disgust on his face.  Abruptly he stood up, sending her crashing to the ground.  Specs didn't even seem to notice that she was there after that.  He walked out the door and turned in the direction opposite of the one Hotshot had taken.

            All the boys watched him go before turning back to where Hummingbird had stood up.  She looked at all of them before walking out the door.  A cheer of sorts chorused through the group, as they all began talking at once.  

            Racetrack was heard above everyone, "Specs an' Hotshot will be back together by tonight."

            "How sure are you Race?" David asked, he'd never seen Hotshot as mad as she had been in that diner.

            "I'd stake my life on it."

            Hotshot sold papers by herself that afternoon, being very careful to avoid Specs, and Spot.  She just didn't want to be around Specs and Hummingbird.  And then Spot, well the last time she'd gone off on someone like she had in the restaurant Spot had been lecturing her for a week.  She was not up for listening to him drone on about how important it was for her to be nice to everyone.

            She walked through the streets of the city yelling headlines until she'd sold all of her papers.  It was pretty late for the afternoon but it wasn't dark yet.  She started back to the lodging house, knowing Race would probably have a poker game going when she got back.

            Sure enough as soon as she entered she found Race and many of others surrounding a table in the lobby.  She locked eyes with his for a second before breaking the gaze and heading up the stairs.  She almost turned around when she entered the bunkroom; Spot was sitting on a bunk across form Jack as the two of them chatted quietly about something.  Not only did she not want to put up with his lectures right now, but also it seemed that they were alone, meaning they were talking business.

            Never the less living in Brooklyn for ten years had taught her never to back down once she'd started something.  She walked through the room and had anyone else been around they would have mistaken her for having a part in the meeting.  Purposely forgetting her manners she walked right past them and slipped out into the fire escape.  She climbed up the ladders and platforms until she reached the roof. 

The place was quite popular among the lodgers because of the solitude it offered from the world below.  But chairs at the poker had the same magnetic effect and tonight they seemed to have a stronger pull.  Hotshot was glad, as much as she loved the guys in the lodging house she didn't want to have them come up and tell her how sorry they were.  She climbed up onto the ledge and watched the inhabitants of her city scurry about in the streets below.

The whole time she sat there she knew someone would come up to talk to her. Not Race, the poker tables were too hot tonight and it would be hours before he gave up his seat, either Blink or Spot.  The sky was long past dark when she finally heard the sound of boots on the ladder, and someone climbing onto the roof and walking toward her.  It was Spot she decided, but the only reason she could hear him was because he wanted her to.  She could just picture his face, deathly serious, as it has been when she passed him to leave.  A pair of hands dropped onto the ledge beside her but she didn't look over, not wanting to look him in the eye until she had to.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice offered.

She dug her fingers into the palm of her hands.  It wasn't Spot after all.  She still didn't want to meet his gaze, but it had to be done.  She sighed heavily and turned to look at him, "My thoughts ain't worth a penny."

"Well, from what I hear downstairs most of the fellas would pay a lot more than a penny to hear your thoughts right now.  I mean Spot thinks you're scared of him."

She laughed.  It was the thing she wanted to do least around him but the thought of her being afraid of Spot, it was just to funny.  "Yeah right, the day I'm scared of Spot Conlon is the day Jack takes over Brooklyn."

She turned completely to face him.  Specs was standing with his hands leaning on the ledge, slouched slightly forward.  He wanted to smile but the serious conversation that needed to happen seemed to dominate his mind and therefore he was frowning.  His eyes shined with some untapped light, and his hair hung slightly in his face.

"Well, we know that isn't going to happen any time soon."  A grin crossed his face and disappeared just as quickly.  "Listen, Hotshot I'm…" he paused and looked out at the city, "How do I say this?"

"You're sorry," she supplied.

He looked at her, an unreadable expression masking his face, "I don't think I am."

She nodded; it was what she'd expected.  If he had been apologizing she would have been in shock.

"I'm not sorry, Hotshot.  I mean _you're_ the one who left.  You were saying that you wouldn't leave, and the minute it was all over you were gone."

"You think I wanted to leave.  Specs I told you on the roof a few weeks ago that I wanted to keep being a newsie, and that I just didn't know where to go.  I told you that I didn't want to go back to my father's life.  But I had to Specs.  I couldn't just abandon him; it was my responsibility to make sure he got settled again.  I mean, when he sprung that on me at the party, what could I have said Specs!"

"No," he supplied.

 "Matthew Edwards don't you dare pull that with me! You know very well that if your mother asked you to go back and live with your family again you'd do it in a heartbeat.  Why should my decision be any different than yours?"  She turned to him with a look that could kill.  This would turn into a shouting match between them.  While she'd hoped things would be easily resolved it was obvious that wasn't going to happen.

"Because you had a life in that other place!  If I went home I wouldn't fit in and you know it.  You had the newsies and you had me.  That didn't have to be any different but you made it that way."

"I didn't want to Specs, believe me.  I wanted to stay with you more than anything, but it was my family, and we both know something would have happened if I went back to Brooklyn."  Her mind suddenly turned to another thought that had been plaguing her mind; "Anyway you seemed very content with your new girl.  Hummingbird!  Specs, what the hell were you thinking!"

"I was thinking that I wanted to be with someone who wasn't going to leave me the second they got a chance."

She stood to get off the ledge and he helped her down.  As soon as her feet hit the roof she turned to face him directly, "Well then you sure chose the wrong person.  You know that every single fact I said at Tibby's today was true."

He averted his gaze and said nothing.  It was as close to getting him to admit he was right as she was going to get.

"Specs, I am sorry that I left.  I'm sorry that I hurt you and the guys, and I'm sorry that you're angry, but I did come back.  Nothing is going to keep me away from Manhattan.  I don't care if you hate me for the rest of my life, but I'm not leaving.  This is my home."

"What makes you think I have a problem with you staying here?"

"Let's see Specs.  First, you refused to sleep in the bunkroom if I was there.  Then you were arguing with Dutchy this morning, don't even get me started on Hummingbird.  And Specs I swear every time I see you I want to tell myself off for putting you through this."

"Then why do you?"

"Because I don't know what to do.  I thought going back home would make my dad happy and make my life perfect, but it didn't.  My dad is trying to get his firm back on the ground so I spent almost every day with Pickpocket on the front steps of the house.  I though we'd be a family again if we went back there."

"What you weren't a family?"

"No, we were, I mean I still love them, it's just…" she sighed, "My family is here Specs, the newsies are my family."

"If we're your family then why the hell did you leave?"

"I had to figure my life out Specs!  I mean it's easy for you, you left home because you wanted to get away.  I left to get away from something, and then all of a sudden it was all thrown back at me as soon as I felt free of it."

He suddenly looked tired and much older.  He braced himself in a corner and crossed his arms over her chest, nodding for her to continue her rant.

"Do you know how many people I've lied to, Specs?  Huh?  I have lied to every single person I've ever met, every single one of my friends, even the ones who trusted me with everything.  No one knows me Specs, not even Spot!  How do you think it felt to have to lie to everyone about who I am?  I mean, I was a Brooklyn newsie Specs, I had to be tough and I had to be a fighter, I could never be like other girls.  I haven't cried in over five years Specs, at least that.  I didn't even really cry when I thought Andres was dead, because I wouldn't let myself.  And I'll be damned if I'm gonna cry over you."

"I wouldn't expect you to."  

"I do care about you Specs, if you're gonna hold a grudge against me at you at least need to know that."  She sat down against the wall, suddenly too tired to stand and yell at him.  He sat as well, still staring at her.

"Hotshot," he licked his lips, "I'm sorry, about everything.  I really care about you, and when you left I just needed someone and Hummingbird was right there.  I should have come to see you."

"I wish you had," she said as calmly as possible, remembering how angry Roman had been with her at that time, "but I don't blame you for staying away."

"I want to have a relationship with you Hotshot, but is that all our relationship is going to be based on, past secrets?"

She met his eyes, "It would take you a lifetime to learn all my secrets Specs, so yes and no, it would be based on past secrets and present times."

  "What if that ain't good enough?"

"Then we'll work on it until it is.  That's one thing I never did with Spot.  He had his secrets and I had mine.  We had each other to lean on so it wasn't as bad, but I don't know, it was just like, like Spot didn't need a reason, but I did.  Secrets suck, I promise to be as truthful as I can be from now on if you will."

"It's a promise."  

As he took her hand Hotshot looked up and met his eyes again, "Damn, they were right?"

"Who was right about what?" he asked, confused.

"Rebel, Blackjack, Spot, Blink, I'm sure everyone else was thinking it too…" she trailed off, trying to avoid his gaze.

He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him, "What are you talking about?"

"Everyone told me the same thing Specs.  Before and after I came back, I told them all that I was coming back because this is where I belong, and they insisted that it was for a different reason.  When I heard what they thought I insisted they were wrong and told them that they were crazy, but I'm starting to think they were right.  I can't believe they were right."

"Hotshot, what-"

"Do you love me Specs?"

He looked a bit taken back by the question but was quick to come up with an answer, "Of course I do.  You're my best friend Hotshot."

"No, not like that, I mean do you love me like the fellas do their girls?"

He thought for a moment before responding this time, "Yes.  Now Hotshot, what did all of them tell you?"

"They told me that I was in love with you Specs, and I told them they were crazy.  I'd never been in love before and I guess I didn't believe that I could ever care about anyone.  God, I screamed at Blink for saying it, he's gonna be pissed at me.  They were right though," she paused, "I love you Specs."  

Without a word he pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers, as passionately as he probably would have, had they been dating during the entire case.  She was surprised to say the least but wouldn't have stopped him if her life depended on it.  Instead of pulling away she shifted her body so she was facing him.  He deepened the kiss and she slipped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.  His hands slid to her waist and under her shirt.  His hands touching her bare skin sent a shiver down her spine and she happily moved closer to him.  

Several moments later they broke apart, both breathing heavily as they each tried to catch their breath.  She leaned against his chest, and his hand moved to glide through her hair.  Neither of them dared to speak.  

"So," Specs broke the deafening silence, "Brooke, will you be my girl."

She looked up at him in mild surprise.  Every time one of the guys had called her Brooke she'd hit them, but for some reason specs calling her by her real name didn't bother her in the least.  "Yes," she whispered, kissing him softly.

*            *            *

"They've been up there for a long time, an' it's been quite a while since we heard 'em yelling." Crutchy commented.

"I bet she killed him," Blink joked, but he was silenced by glances by a few of the others.

Race sighed, they were back together, he was sure of it.  As much as Hotshot denied it she loved Specs, and Specs had openly confessed to several of the boys that he loved her.  It wasn't like the fact hadn't been blatantly obvious before, but they needed to admit it.  The entire room had heard the two of them yelling form the roof almost an hour before.  

He smirked, they were probably making out up there.  It wasn't like he minded.  Race had known the two of them would be together since they'd shared their first kiss.  Each one's personality fit the others perfectly, and if you watched the way they acted around each other you could see the chemistry.  In fact he'd nearly gone off on Specs the first time he'd seen him with Hummingbird.  He grinned to himself as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs through the less known entrance to the roof.  The footsteps echoed into Hotshot's room and stopped for several minutes.  He grinned as he turned to the other boys, still watching the window.  

He should have been a Brooklyn newsie, he thought to himself.  Sometimes his senses were sharper than Spot's.  He looked up as the door opened and proclaimed loudly, "Well, if it ain't the lovebirds.  When's the wedding you two?"

Everyone swung around to face the door in one motion.  Specs stood with his arm wrapped securely around Hotshot's waist, a gesture that had a set meaning, she was his.  Race smiled to himself, he'd been right again.  He glanced over his shoulder to see Kid Blink's grin, which was even wider than his own.

*            *            *

Hotshot grinned at Race's remark, she wanted to hit him but, well, it was his nature.  She dropped her things onto the bunk under Bumlets' and sat down.  Nothing was going to ruin this night now.  As soon as they'd entered the room had erupted in noise.  Now the boys had spread out form the window and were in groups all around the room.  Pie Eater, Swifty, Bumlets, Snoddy and Skitters were all gathered around Specs.  

"So you two are back together?" the voice and the sound of someone tapping on her bunk made her turn from where she was sitting.  Dutchy stood next to her bed with the usual lopsided grin covering his face.

"Yeah," she replied grinning, "we are."

"Well, y'know you made Race be right too, we ain't gonna hear the end a that any time soon."

"There's a first time for everything," she commented, and immediately after felt something hit her in the back of the head.  She turned to find Race, Jack and Spot standing on the other side of her.  Racetrack had an eyebrow raised and a smile across his face.  "Oh please, you know I'm joking."  Race shook his head with a smirk and excused himself to start a poker game with a few of the other boys.  He never changes Hotshot thought to herself.

Spot just nodded to her, "Well it looks like you got everything under control here, guess I'll see you around, next Poker game in Brooklyn."

"I'll be there to kick your ass, just like old times," she said spitting in her hand and holding it out.

He repeated the act and they shook hands.  "You wish," was all he said before turning and strolling out of the room as if he owned the place.  

Blink was grinning at her from the next bunk, looking like he held the worlds biggest secret.  "So, when are you and Sweets goin' out?" she asked.

His face fell, "You knew?  Never mind, yeah, I was gonna ask you to come so you wouldn't feel so lonely 'round here but it looks like I won't have to.  So, you told him, right?"

"Yes, and as much as I hate to admit it I have to say that your advise worked."

"Always does."

"Hey Race," Specs voice filled the room as he held out his hand and snapped his fingers, "Give it here."  

Hotshot looked at the two of them completely confused and watched Race pull her knife out of his vest pocket.  He handed specs the knife and in turn Specs handed it to her, "I believe you have something to finish."

She rolled her eyes and flipped it open, leaning back.  It was so much easier to carve her name with the knife than it had been using the key.  She closed the knife and threw it onto her bed stand when she was done.  A few of the guys cheered but the rest were absorbed in Race's poker game.  She moved through the crowd and let herself into the next game.  Race was on a winning streak, again and she was in the mood to play.  She watched him deal the cards and picked hers up.  Everyone else quickly folded, knowing the game was between those two.

"Read 'em and weep," Race threw down his cards and reached for the money but her cards were laying on top of the pile, and unfortunately, they beat his." 

"Pleasure doin' business with ya Race," she took the majority of the winnings, leaving him with only what he'd bet.  The boys all yelled and cheered, seeing the look on Race's face.

"How the hell does she do that?" he questioned.

No one had time to answer.  There was a pounding heard from the floor below, Kloppman was banging an old broom on the ceiling and yelling up for them all to go to bed.  They all grumbled back knowing he couldn't hear and were sure to stomp extra loudly as they made their way to their bunks.  Hotshot kicked off her boots and threw her buttoned shirt to the ground.  Specs lay down next to her wrapping an arm around her waist.  For once Racetrack didn't comment.

The next morning she woke up to the feeling of Kloppman's broom poking into her. "What're you two tryin' ta do, get me shut down?" the old man snapped, "Get up, you'se got papes to sell, an' don't you dare do that again.  

The walk to the distribution center was closer to usual that morning.  There was no sight of Hummingbird and all of the boys were yelling to each other and running all over the place.  

Hotshot got a spot pretty close to the head of the line at the Distribution Center and started trying to think of a comment.  When she reached the window though, she held her tongue.  Oscar and Maurice's faces were bruised and cut, they'd been in a fight and lost horribly.  She laughed out loud as she ordered her hundred papers.  "What the hell happened to you two?"  Neither of them was willing to supply an answer.

"Who did that?" she asked Specs as he met her at the entrance, "Who beat them up?"

"I did."

"What?"

"I don't want Oscar to think he can make a move on my girl anytime soon and get away with it.  You know, some of those tricks you taught us came in pretty useful."  

She kept laughing as they headed out into the streets.  The headlines were good for once and they both sold out.  Hummingbird was unsurprisingly absent at Tibby's, but all the jokes and ongoing stories and chatter were back in full swing.

In the afternoon they sold near the Brooklyn Bridge, and predictably Spot yelled at them for selling too close to Brooklyn territory.  Hotshot yelled that she was half-Brooklyn which earned a few comments form Spot.  After several minutes of unneeded banter the two moved to Central Park to finish selling.  

As if to make up for losing to her the past night Racetrack won every game that he played that night.  Hotshot almost happily lost to him several times and lost a fourth of her days earnings.  David, surprisingly, found that he had a talent for playing Blackjack, and Hotshot promised him that she'd force him to play her brother the next time there was a poker night.  

When Kloppman ordered them up to the bunkroom she sat on her bunk and watched as they began the same activities they'd been enjoying downstairs.  Racetrack had Itey, Snitch, Jake, and Crutchy involved in his poker game.  Race was lecturing his young cousin on why he shouldn't bet against him as he won the next game.  The others only rolled their eyes, he'd never change, but as soon as he had a bad night they'd have their money back.

The younglings Les, Snipeshooter, and Boots were involved in some kind of conversation. You couldn't even begin to try and imagine what it was about.  They were passing around Les' wooden sword and one of the cigars Snipeshooter had gotten for his birthday, not smoking it, just enjoying being able to hold it, and feel like they were older.

Jack, David, Kid Blink, and Mush were seated near them playing a leisurely game of Blackjack.  David would loudly object whenever Les got hold of the cigar.  Jack only laughed at these times and commented on how uptight Jack was.  He wasn't like other leaders, she realized, he didn't take charge unless he needed to.  Mush and Kid Blink were talking animatedly and joking around as they played.  David won yet another round.

Pie Eater, Bumlets, Snoddy, Skittery, Swifty, and Dutchy filled the gaps between all the groups walking around and talking with everyone, well, except Dutchy.  He was on the middle of everything trying to balance on a random chair that had come form somewhere in the room.  Bumlets and Pie Eater were cracking jokes while Skittery tried to push Dutchy over.  Swifty and Snoddy would stand behind one person at either table chanting for them to win, and changing their mind every several minutes.

She walked to the fire escape as soon as she realized he was missing.  He hadn't even bothered to climb up to the roof.  She grinned and climbed out onto the fire escape with him, "What're you doing?"

He looked at her and motioned for her to come and sit with him, which she happily did.  After they'd just sat around for several minutes he finally spoke, "So is this as good as that part of the roof back at that mansion of yours?"

"Better," she said, "If I was there I couldn't hear all the guys yelling, and I wouldn't be with you."  She looked up at the clear sky where the moon and stars were shining brightly.  "I'm home."  She said it almost absentmindedly.

"Yes you are," Specs said, "and no one is as happy about that as I am, but I'm sick of secrets at the moment so please don't share any more of yours with me for a while.  Focus on now."

"That's New York," she smiled, "Especially for us, past secrets and present times."

He kissed her then.  She did nothing to stop him and leaned closer to him to get the full effect.  It just made the night all the more perfect.  Nothing else would ever even come close.  She could hear the voices of all of her friends either through the open window or in her head.  The first man she could admit she loved was kissing her, and life was perfect.  She pulled back from his kiss a moment later and sat as close to him as possible.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead.  She smiled and looked out over the city, which was strangely quiet, only adding to the perfection of the moment.

~~~~The End~~~~

An author note will follow in the form of a chapter very soon, thank all of you for reading, please, don't forget to review.

~Hotshot~~~


	34. AUTHOR NOTE

Past Secrets and Present Times

Authors Note

Hotshot

            I swear to God unless there is some kind of emergency or something this is the only place you will ever see an authors note as a chapter in my stories, at the end.  I am so thankful that people actually read my stuff.  When I wrote NSYNC fics the only reviews I got were from my friends.  Ok, so I still get reviews from a few friends but you guys reviewed too.  I in no way was expecting to get over 100 reviews, not that I'm complaining, again thanks. 

            Ok, so here's a nice long list of the people I want to thank.  If you don't see your name and you know you reviewed I apologize, fanfiction.net is being messed up and displays a bunch of names as xing@fanfiction.net lately.  So, here we go.  Thank you to Arlene, Kaylee, Chachi, Drama-Queen, Angel, Patch530, lildreamer99, Fearless, Frenchy DeWolfe, Laze, Perdolwen, Crystal Lefler, Caitlin22888, Pages, Tiger, Neffie, Alias, baby309blue, Moth Stafu, GG, Katie, Starrika, Unruly Raincloud, Kys, Cristie, mc, Pretzel, Hayley, Julie, and Liz.  Plus, that person who gave me a nameless review on chapter 26 screaming at me to update.  Also to those top three reviewers…

Splash: thanks a ton.  Dutchy's girl, I think you're the person who reviewed my story the most and I am very thankful.

            Lange: I was sort of depressed when you stopped reviewing after a while.  Let's see, what stuck out about you.  The threats about Spot, definitely, but you realized the sexiness that is Specs sooo…  I was nice to Spot a few times, and the other stuff I write with him in it probably won't be that bad.

            SaL:  Oh, c'mon, I have to put you in here.  My mind, violent, ::pretends to act shocked:: of course, and no I do not need help.  If you have not read this girls stuff go find it and read it right now.  And Fleming, I have not seen an e-mail review for chapter 33 yet.  Waiting… ::grins::

            Ok, now that that's is done with.  I have been working on this fic since I saw Newsies for the first time last April.  I really thought it was going to be one of those stories I started and ended up quitting in the middle when I couldn't think of anything else to write, but thanks to my reviewers and the wonderful antics of my friends I got ideas.  Plus, y'know I just loved keeping you in suspense.  I must admit that is one of the best parts of being an author, though I hate it when anyone else does it.

                Anyway, I've been working on this story for more than ten months so I'm happy to see it finished, but I'm sad too because this means I won't be able to put up more chapters.  If you still want to read more of my stuff go read 'My Way Home'  I found the disk and am working on getting another chapter or two up over February vacation.  Or there's 'Light in Your Eyes.  Since you guys have been leaving me wonderful reviews I will tell you who the newsie I am thinking of is, Spot.  I never said his name though so it can be whomever you want.   

            One more thing, do you guys want a sequel, or a prequel even?  I could think of more stuff for either from right after this story ends to when she stops being a newsie or even after that, then I could do as like a ten years later reunion.  And you know I could thoroughly enjoy making a prequel and making fun of Spot a ton.  Just tell me what you think, I have like a million story ideas so keep a lookout for anything by me.

            On a sadder note I found out on Sunday night that Cricket died from her injuries last Thursday.  She would have turned 14 today (Wednesday, February 19th 2003) so this story is in memory of her.  Though I never met her in person she was extremely close to my younger sister in age and she was a Newsies fan so she must have been a wonderful person.  She will be missed.  Happy Birthday Cricket.

            Well you guys this is the end, we laughed, we cried, we made fun of Spot _a lot _but it has to end.  I'll be back soon with more stories I promise, and to those of you who do not have pen names on here get off your butts and write, you'll enjoy it I promise.  Luv you all.  I will be back.  Thanks again.

                                                                                    ~Hotshot~~~

                                                                                                Megan Dumas


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